My Cousin Vinnie's Wife's Cousin, Johnny Thumbs
by pink99
Summary: Life was a big box of Tastykakes and Pino's subs for Stephanie Plum. She and Joe Morelli had settled into a comfortable holding pattern. All of that changed when Vinnie hired Lucille's colorful cousin, Johnny Thumbs. Cupcake story. Humor, Romance, Hurt/Comfort. Rated for language and adult content.
1. Chapter 1

All characters you recognize from the J/E Plum series are borrowed for fun, not for profit.

A super huge thank you to Carol, Julie and Kim. I could have never written this story without their tremendous amount of support and encouragement. Thank you for all of the helpful suggestions and catching my mistakes. Now, I ain't perfect, so I'll own up to any they missed all by my lonesome.

This is a Cupcake story which mentions situations up through book 18 and takes place sometime after. Thanks for reading. - T

* * *

**My Cousin Vinnie's Wife's Cousin, Johnny Thumbs**

**Chapter 1**

"Morning, Cupcake." Joe placed a gentle kiss on my lips. From the hint of mint on his breath and water droplets on my t-shirt, I gathered Joe had been up for a while and already showered. I still hadn't opened my eyes. I tucked the navy comforter up under my chin and wished for a few more minutes of sleep. Snug as a bug, I didn't want to leave the comforts of Joe's bed.

Suddenly, I smelled bacon and fresh coffee. That got me up. The first thing I saw was a mouthwatering plate of bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast passing back and forth under my nose.

Joe stopped wafting the plate while I scooched myself up and propped against the pillows. "Awww, isn't that sweet. You made me breakfast in bed."

"Coffee's on the nightstand. Too much sugar with ample cream, just how you like it."

"Whatever did I do to deserve this?" I asked coyly.

"Cupcake, I'll gladly make you breakfast every morning for the rest of your life if you promise to repeat what happened last night for the rest of mine."

I caught the underlying marriage referral in his statement. Joe felt now that we were in our early thirties, we needed to settle down. Nothing in the world would make Joe happier than to have a ring on my finger and a car seat or two in his SUV. I just wasn't sure yet if it would make me happy. We still fought quite a bit, but if we were married, it would put an end to one of our most frequent arguments.

Not wanting to worry about the future right now, I thought back to last night. We performed extraordinary maneuvers that in the gymnastic world would have required a spotter. He was right. I deserved breakfast in bed.

Instead of a reply, I offered him a smile. I reached up to cup his face and ran my fingers gently along his jaw, then down his neck. "You shaved?" The question was rhetorical.

Joe stood still and tipped the corners of his mouth up as my fingers continued their exploration. My eyes followed the path of my touch. Tanned skin covered the rippling muscles of his well defined chest. My finger paused to circle his nipple. His breath deepened. I watched the expansion and contraction of his ribs while I gently tugged at the hard pebble. A thin line of soft hair on his abdomen was partially visible and begged to be caressed. The towel hanging low in his hips hid the rest. I felt along the curve of his hip bone and across the edge of the towel. Stopping directly below his belly button, my fingers trailed down the soft patch. His stomach muscles tightened beneath my fingers and he sucked in a gasp. I think he caught me licking my lips as I stared at the swell beneath his towel. I was not ready to look up into those dark brown pools yet. I knew the minute I did, Joe would lose all restraint and my foreplay exploration would be over.

"I can put your plate in the microwave if you want to wait to eat," Joe said, snapping me back to reality. I forgot he was still holding my breakfast.

"You should have waited to shower. You know what seeing you like that does to me."

"I know. Boosts my ego," he said and flashed his pearly teeth.

"If your ego has anything to do with the rocket under your towel, consider yourself boosted." Before I could reach for Joe's rocket, a loud rumble erupted from my stomach that could have shaken the Grand Canyon.

"My stomach trumps my libido every time," I said grabbing the plate. "Especially when there's food already made."

Taking my first bite, I moaned in appreciation, "Mmmm, Joe, this is so good. Thank you. Where's yours?"

Joe rubbed himself through his towel. "My ego isn't too happy about postponing the rocket launch. Those moans you're making have my engines fired."

"We'll have lift-off when I'm done eating. Back to my question, did you make something for yourself?"

"Bob and I ate after our run." That explains why I didn't need to guard my plate from Bob, the canine garbage disposal.

"I figured I'd let you sleep a few more minutes while I took a shower." Joe sat on the bed and stroked my exposed leg. "Maybe after you're fueled up, we could take a trip to a distant galaxy together and I'll show you the stars." He was bound and determined to play spaceman.

"Krssht, Eros 1 to Mission Control, Eros 1 to Mission Control, do you read me?" Joe spoke into a pretend radio by making a fist.

"You named your space ship after a Greek god?" I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Krssht, I can't hear you Mission Control. You have to push the button," he smirked and pressed his thumb against his fist a couple times to demonstrate.

"Oh, cripes." Fine, he made me breakfast. I'll play. I made a fist and held it to my mouth, "Krssht, this is Mission Control. I hear you loud and clear Eros 1."

"Krssht, Mission Control, will I need a space suit on this next voyage?"

Joe was obviously referring condoms. As a favor to both of us, I opted for a birth control shot at my last doctor visit. I kept forgetting to take my pill and always made Joe wear protection as an added measure. My sister, Val, was pregnant and the size of a city bus. It wasn't a look I hoped to achieve anytime soon.

"Krssht, I don't recall it being a requirement on last night's trial exploration. I'd prefer it if you didn't wear one today," I said with a big grin.

"Yes!" Joe did a fist pump. "I mean, krssht, thank you, Mission Control. I prefer to move about the cabin freely."

I couldn't think of a response to the corny direction this conversation was headed, so I just shook my head and took a bite of hash browns.

"What? Did I go too far?" He held out his hands, palms up, making me grin.

Damn he was cute when he was playful. His dark brown hair was starting to dry. He was in need of a haircut and it curled sexily at the nape of his neck. Realizing Joe didn't bring me a napkin, I wiped my mouth with a corner of the sheet. They needed to be changed anyway.

"Yeah. What time is it?" I looked over at the clock, but Joe's pillow was in the way.

Joe glanced at his watch. He didn't bother to put pants on, but out of habit had strapped on his watch. Obviously I wasn't the only one thinking of morning sex.

"Just after eight. When do you have to be to work?"

"Shit. I told Connie I would pick up doughnuts and be in the office by nine. Your mission has been officially postponed till tonight." I began shoveling my breakfast at a rapid pace. "That's not nearly enough time to get showered, dressed and hit the bakery. There's no way I can skip the shower after how sweaty you made me last night."

I was still cramming the food in as I walked in the bathroom. I would have screamed at my reflection if my mouth wasn't so full. How Joe ever got so turned on by this hideous sight was beyond me. My brown, curly hair was sticking up in ten different directions and mascara had smeared all the way down to my cheek.

Joe walked in and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Sorry you have to rush. Since you didn't mention anything last night, I thought it was one of those go in whenever days. I'm not working today. How about I throw some clothes on and go to the bakery for you?" He asked placing a kiss in my hair.

Chewing furiously, I turned in his arms and nodded against his chest. He released me and walked back into the bedroom. Seconds later he was back. "Half-dozen Boston Crèmes and another half mixed?" I gave him a thumbs-up and he placed the coffee mug in my hand.

I took a couple of much needed swallows, "Thanks, Joe." He nodded and went to get dressed. Before he was out of earshot, I added, "I love you!"

"Love you too, Cupcake," he said over his shoulder.

Connie would be super pissed if I was late. I was not about to be victim of her wrath. The fact that she was shorter than me didn't make her any less scary. Lately, Connie had been updating her appearance to make herself feel younger. She was a couple years older than I was and still single. She banished the grays with a jet black dye job on her shiny hair that fell just below her shoulders. The beauty shop she went to was a couple towns over to avoid any burg gossip about her hair color. Her last visit, the hairdresser convinced her to straighten the poof out of her Italian curls. She maintained the Jersey look by teasing the top a few inches above her head. Make-up was applied a little more dramatically using tips from the Cosmo magazine. Her shirts were always low cut, busting out with cleavage. The day of her make-over debut, I thought she looked like Elvira's shorter sister.

I had showered, got dressed, and did the hair and makeup thing in record time. I was in the dining room lacing up my tennis shoes. Joe walked back in with the bakery box and dropped it on the table. Bob smelled the sugar and fried dough. He walked over and settled on the floor next to my chair, waiting for something to be dropped accidentally.

"Looks like I don't have the day off after all. A witness came forward with some information about a case I'm working. She's coming down to the station in a while to make a statement. I really want to be there to see what she has to say."

"Will you be able to make it to my parent's for dinner? My mom made me promise to be there tonight since we've cancelled so many times lately."

I gave my mother every plausible excuse I could come up with, short of a medical emergency requiring surgery, so that Joe and I could have dinner alone at his place. Most mornings I woke up in Joe's bed. I visited my apartment daily to feed my hamster, Rex, and to retrieve clean clothes. Our relationship was finally in a good place. Ultimately, I knew my mom would complicate things between Joe and I by introducing the subject of marriage during dinner. I'd just have to cleverly skirt the topic if it came up tonight.

Meals with Joe had consisted of beer and meatball subs or beer and pizza from Pino's. After eating the same thing for weeks, I actually craved my mother's home cooking. Not to mention, she promised double chocolate cake for dessert.

"Yeah, I know. I'd really hate to disappoint your folks, but it depends on how this meeting goes. If her information gives me some kind of lead, I'll want to follow up on it right away. The chief has been on my ass to close this case. We've pretty much hit a brick wall. I'm really hoping this lady had something useful." Joe ran his hand through his hair. I could tell he was frustrated.

"What's the case?" I knew he wouldn't tell me, but my inquisitive nature never stops me from trying.

He tilted his head and stared at me for a few seconds. The look he gave me said I should already know the answer to that question.

"You know I would tell you if I could. I'm not keeping secrets from you. Confidentiality is just part of the job."

"I know, I know," I said submissively with a hand wave. "I'm just trying to help. You know that the people we deal with sometimes run in the same circles. I might stumble across something useful to you."

Joe's slow grin turned into a low chuckle, "Steph, you don't stumble across anything. You usually fall face first into a pile of garbage."

Probably he wasn't intending to hurt me, but he did. "Oh, sure. I do it on purpose, too. My day isn't complete until I'm covered in somebody's coffee grounds or leftover spaghetti. Just go ahead and say it, Joe. I suck at my job and you want me to quit. You know what, never mind. Just forget I said anything."

I was right on the edge of starting a full fledged shouting match. The cannon was loaded and ready. Whatever he said next could light the fuse. I had the premonition of Joe flailing his arms around with crazy Italian hand gestures. Joe put his hands to his hips and studied me. It seemed he was working out the back and forth exchange that was about to happen. I wasn't in the mood for a speech about his Maalox consumption. I sprung up off the chair, grabbed my purse and doughnuts, ready to storm out the door.

Joe gripped arm and put my back against his chest. Quickly, he wrapped his arms around me to prevent me from leaving. My breath was coming out in short, angry huffs through my nose.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have said that," he paused, gathering his thoughts. "I'm really looking forward to your mother's home cooking tonight. More importantly, I'm looking forward to being with you. Please don't leave mad." He rested his cheek against my hair before turning his head and placing a kiss in my curls.

"You have to understand, it's not just about where you work. I'll always worry about you. It's just that I can't— if anything ever—" he blew out a sigh and nuzzled my hair. "I can't imagine living my life without you, okay? Not ever."

Bob spun around in a circle three times on the tapestry throw rug in front of me before he decided to lie down. Joe tucked a curl behind my ear, leaned in and asked, "Are we good?" Damn it, he had done it again. The situation had been diffused in literally seconds. I wasn't sure if he was able to do this because of his cop training or if it was just plain Morelli magnetism.

Most Morelli men were born with a charm-your-pants-off gene. My thoughts drifted to what our son might be like. I'm only part Italian on my dad's side. The other part is horny Hungarian. The combination of our DNA would be lethal. Maybe there was a higher power preventing me from giving in to Joe's desire to get married. God was doing the female population a favor by preventing us from procreating.

Turning in his arms, I looked up into Joe's pleading eyes. How could I possibly stay mad at a face like that? I left him in suspense for a few seconds while I concentrated on his face. His bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly and I let the wall of rage crumble.

"Yeah. We're good."

The corners of his lips tipped up as his eyes twinkled to match his smile. He lowered his head and placed his lips to mine softly. I parted my lips when I felt his fingers threading into my hair at the base of my neck, forcing the kiss deeper. He tilted his head to get a better angle as our tongues danced. I almost dropped the bakery box when his hand cupped my butt cheek and molded me against him tightly. Desperately needing air, we separated from the kiss. He rested his forehead against mine. I watched his chest puff in and out as he regained control of his breath.

"How mad would Connie be if you were late?" He leaned into me forcing me to either walk backward, or fall. My heels contacted the wall before my back did. Joe slid his hands down my rear to the backs of my thighs. His tongue tasted my neck, just below the ear, before pulling the skin into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. He tugged at the back of my legs, urging me to wrap them around his waist. Much to his dismay, I kept my feet firmly rooted to the floor. He pressed his hard erection into my stomach and began to grind, showing me how deep his desire was as he continued suck and bite my neck. A noise crossed between a moan and a purr rattled my throat.

"Fuck, Steph," Joe breathed into my ear. Within a blink, my pants were unbuttoned and the zipper slid open. I felt his strong palm on my stomach as he worked his fingers under the elastic. A surge of heat ran through my body straight to my—oh, God! My panties were about to be ruined. The desire to rip off his clothes was overwhelming. He knew exactly what he was doing. A few more seconds of his warm, moist mouth on my neck and we would both be naked.

It nearly killed me to say the next words, but it had to be done. I put my free hand on his chest, "Stop," I panted. "You have to stop. Connie will take one look at my face and know exactly why I'm late. I gotta go." I managed to pry his hand out of my pants and put several inches of space in between us so I could fan my hand at my face. I needed to cool off.

"Seriously?" His hands squeezed my hips and I nodded. "Okay." He gazed into my eyes and held his Cheshire smile. Joe's devious hand began to work itself around my hip, under my shirt and up my rib cage. Wrapping my hand around his wrist, I put a stop to his sneak attack before he reached my bra.

"You're killing me, Morelli." I pulled his hand out and tugged my shirt back down.

"Oh yeah, Plum? Look what you do to me," he pointed at the huge bulge sticking out of his grey sweatpants. I sidestepped away and moved several feet into the living room to put more distance between us. Inches were just too close right now. The doughnut box rested on the back of the couch while I righted the zipper and button of my jeans.

"Connie sent me a text while you were gone. All it said was '9 A.M. Sharp'. Connie isn't a texter. Something's up. I can't be late today. Besides, you need to change for your meeting. Sweatpants probably aren't considered casual attire in the Trenton PD Handbook."

"I didn't have work in mind when I picked out my pants today. I wore these for you, easy access." He snapped the waistband.

"Don't be an ass."

"Awww, you love my ass."

"Of course I do. Every woman in Trenton loves your ass. But, I better be the only one who sees it naked."

"Just you and my doctor, Cupcake," he said with a quick little peck. "I'll call you if I'm running late tonight. Just save me a plate. You can have my dessert. I'll be having Cupcake later," he winked and turned away.

I watched Joe's ass as he took the stairs, two at a time, to change for work. The sweatpants didn't do him justice. When he wore the faded Levi's with little rips here and there—whew, those were some jeans I could really sink my teeth into.

I patted Bob on the head and thanked him for not eating my underpants last night. Bob was Morelli's lovable, orange, overgrown mutt that considered anything left on the floor to be edible. When Bob decided you had left him alone for too long, he would eat the sofa or the recliner. With every couch Joe bought, it became an internal struggle for him not to give up and replace the entire living room set with wrought iron patio furniture.

I headed out the door and was greeted with the view of my current shitty car. A black faded '94 Toyota Corolla. It wasn't a pretty sight. The dented passenger side door made a loud popping sound when it opened or closed. The previous owner was someone's grandma who didn't think she needed glasses and just happen to miscalculate the distance of a fire hydrant. Her license was revoked after refusing a court ordered vision and road test at the DMV. Her kids made her sell the car which had only 50K miles on it. For five hundred bucks, I couldn't pass it up.

I rolled down the windows and enjoyed the fresh air. It was a beautiful, sunny September day. Upper 70's with a slight breeze. Warm enough for shorts, but not hot enough to need the air which surprisingly worked in this old beater.

Bon Jovi's 'Bad Medicine' blasted through the speakers. I sang along with the lyrics, bobbing my head, not caring who could see me.

I sped right by Eddie on his cop cycle. Dropping down to a more respectable speed, I gave Eddie my signature index finger wave out the window. He shook his head looking down at the radar gun in his hand.

Being that Eddie was married to my cousin, Shirley the whiner, I hoped he wouldn't give me a ticket. Since he worked with Joe, he could be easily persuaded to make the ticket disappear, regardless. Thankfully, I was in the clear from one of Eddie's speeding lectures.

I parked my tiny, paint-chipped car right in front of the bonds office. The parking gods were smiling upon me today. Holding up the doughnuts in one hand, I waived at Connie through the plate glass window with the other. Connie gave me a less than enthusiastic wave back. Not the response I usually get with a box of bakery offering. My watch said 9:05. I wasn't that late.

Connie was the office manager at my cousin's bond agency and I was a bond enforcement agent, more simply, a bounty hunter. For the Vincent Plum Bond Agency, Connie was the bookkeeper, gatekeeper and peacekeeper. On a boring day, the peacekeeper aspect was out the window until she felt thoroughly entertained. I've seen her time killing instigations. I rushed to the door hoping I wasn't going to be her target today.

I got a weird feeling as I approached the door. This was different from the tingling at the back of my neck I usually experienced when Ranger, my mentor, was in close proximity. I had to assume the sensation was my internal alarm or my spidey senses, as I like to refer to it, signaling me of impending danger. As I pulled on the door handle, I felt a brief wave of nausea.

A familiar odor permeated my nostrils, Old Spice, old man original scent. The kind Grandpa Mazur used to wear. Except this was Grandpa to the tenth power. I set the doughnut box on Connie's desk and took in the source of the pungent cologne. A man in his early 40's, probably of Italian decent, sat in the club chair across from Connie's desk. His shiny black hair came to a stubby widow's point at the top of his forehead. It was slicked back with—Vaseline? Epoxy? It was hard to tell. He had a nice face and probably a decent build under his clothes, but his shellacked hair cancelled those aspects out. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt and a thin black tie. If I had to guess, he was either going to a funeral or he was a MIB agent with a letter for his name.

I saw him close a small, tattered spiral notebook and tuck a pencil into the metal binding. He opened his jacket, slid it into an inner pocket and refastened his jacket. Once situated, he made no attempt to hide the obvious fact that he was staring at me. It made me nervous and I pivoted in Connie's direction.

"Hey, Connie. Got any easy files for me today?" She shuffled some files around, and then set the whole stack right in front of her on the desk.

"Steph, I got a feeling that no matter who I give you, it's not gonna be easy for you today," she said putting her hands flat on the files.

"Hunh," Lula huffed and made a production of folding her arms. She was on the couch with her thick legs crossed and stretched out over the span of the cushions. Her dark complexion was coated with a fine sheen of perspiration. The fact that she hadn't asked for my opinion yet of her skin-tight outfit told me she was mad about something. I grabbed the box and made my way to her as Connie pretended to busy herself with the files.

"Want a doughnut?" I offered. Lula picked out a Cyclops, without so much as a thank you, and took a huge bite. I nodded at her feet implying she move them so I could sit. She shook her head and didn't budge an inch. I was about to pick up Lula's meaty leg, wrapped in pink spandex, when the strange man spoke behind me.

"It's okay, sugar buns. I got a seat for you right here." He made a whirly motion with his index fingers that came to a halt, pointing at his lap. Anyway, I was hoping he was pointing to his lap.

"No thanks. I'll just stand," I furrowed my brow and shot a questioning look in Connie's direction. I knew I had never met this man before, but his thick Jersey accent told me he was from around here. I hoped someone would enlighten me soon as to the reason for his presence. The suspense and tension in the office was killing me.

Connie put her elbow on her desk and pointed her perfectly painted finger nail at the man in the chair, "Sugar buns, meet your new partner, Johnny Thumbs."


	2. Chapter 2

All characters you recognize from the J/E Plum series are borrowed for fun, not for profit.

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. The response has been incredible and I am truly grateful.

I owe many sincere thanks to the fantastic writers; Carol, Julie and Kim, for providing me with the wonderful inspiration, suggestions and support I needed to write this story. Some really amazing editing skills helped shape this next chapter.

Thanks for reading and I hope you all will enjoy.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Ask him 'bout why he's called Thumbs!" Lula seemed a little too excited about the thumb story. It was enough to momentarily distract her from being angry anyway. Probably best to wait on that one.

"Hi. I'm Stephanie." I extended my hand, and Johnny Thumbs took it in his as he stood up.

"Call me Johnny. Say, you're a lot hotter in person than those pictures in the paper. Did you really do all that shit they wrote about you?" he asked, looking me up and down.

He was pretty tall—close to Joe's height when he stood up and almost a full head above me. He bent forward, and I anticipated the kiss to my hand. Never breaking eye contact, he turned my hand and brought it to his lips. Then, his tongue darted out to lick my palm in a snake like action. _Gross._

I snapped my hand back and wiped it frantically on my jeans. "It's never my fault. Can't believe everything you read in the paper. And—Umm—there's been some kind of mistake—about the partner thing."

_What was that weasel Vinnie up to? After all I've been through, he chooses now to get me a partner?_ It didn't make sense.

"Nope. No mistake, apple bottom," he said with a toothy grin. "Vinnie hired me and said you're my partner."

"I mostly work alone. Well, not always." I pointed at the couch. "Sometimes Lula goes with me if I need backup. If there's trouble, I call Ranger. When I'm desperate, I call Joe."

I thought of any other resources to add to the list. I decided not to invalidate my first statement of working alone. Having too much backup might cause him to question my competency and skills as a bounty hunter.

"So you see I'm pretty well set for partners when the situation arises."

"That's right. Me and my girl take care of business, and we don't need no greazy-headed go-rilla bustin' up our team."

Lula uncrossed her legs and shifted her left butt cheek up slightly as she casually removed her wedgie. She then re-crossed her legs in the opposite direction, making sure the couch was not an option if Johnny decided to make a change in seating arrangements.

"As a matter of fact," she continued, "I was just thinking we needed to get going and start bringing in the dumbasses today. Ain't no filing to do anyways."

"What do you think those are?" Connie pointed to the foot and a half tall stack on the filing cabinet.

"Hunh. That ain't nothin'. I'll file the shit outta those in no time when we get back. Right now, me and my girl gotta bring in the mean to collect some green."

"That's right, Lula. I should probably talk to Vinnie first about today's skips." I needed to find out what that ferret-faced cousin of mine was up to before I left. Striding over, I turned the knob to Vinnie's office. Locked, of course. Connie gave me a nod telling me he was in.

I knocked. "Vinnie, open up. I gotta talk to you about—today's files." The door didn't open, and I didn't hear any movement on the other side.

Maybe I should just take the morning off, head over to my apartment and feed Rex. The 'Hamster Mommy of the Year' award committee wouldn't ever consider me for a nomination. I didn't even deserve a 'participant' button. The amount of time I spent in my apartment was almost nonexistent. It wasn't fair to my furry friend that I was enjoying the perks of being Joe's semi-permanent houseguest, while he guarded my kitchen bar counter from the confines of his glass enclosure—all on his own. But bringing Rex to Joe's place would mean I was a step closer to giving up the place I called home.

It didn't feel much like home anymore, but I couldn't bring myself to give it up. That tiny, practically unfurnished apartment, laden with mountains of dirty clothes, symbolized my self-sufficient life of independence. Quiet nights alone after my divorce afforded me the time to do some deep soul searching. Dickie had left me broken and penniless. With a little help from my friends, Ben and Jerry, the realization came to me. I held all the power in determining the outcome of my future. I loved Joe, but I didn't need him or anyone else to support me, not financially anyway.

The power of the dollar reminded me rent was due in a couple days. Vinnie and I needed to have a face to face right now, so I could find out what the hell was going on and get to work. I didn't have time for his games, but I wasn't about to be defeated by a man whose dream girl was rumored to be covered in feathers and quacked.

I rapped harder this time and shouted, "Vinnie, I know you're in there. Unlock this door!"

I put my ear to the door. Not a sound. I knew it wasn't soundproof. I had the mental image of the chickenshit doing the same thing on the other side.

Turning to face my audience, I conjured up a theatrical chuckle, "H-he-he must be on the phone."

Connie glanced at the phone on her desk. "None of the lines are lit up."

"Probably he's on his cell phone," I growled and glared at Connie.

"I'll bet Vinnie's in there having his own staff meeting with some kinky Internet visuals. He's probably got headphones on and can't hear you," Lula said and licked the chocolate off her fingers.

_Oh yeah?_ That sleazy, dog turd would hear me this time. I mustered up every ounce of energy I had to make myself heard. "Goddamn it, Vinnie! Open this door!" I worked myself into a sweat, yelling, pounding and kicking the door.

Johnny laughed. "There ain't nothin' hotter than a chick with an aggressive side."

Lula sat up on the couch and folded her arms. "Hunh, that ain't nothin'. Just wait till I bust a cap in your ass. You'll think I'm downright sexy."

Johnny uncrossed his legs and cocked his head at Lula. "Don't get too full of yourself, Rainbow Brite. I'm already half blind just from being in the same room as you."

I took in Lula's attire for the day. Her clothing was so tight; it looked like it had been painted on. She wore hot pink spandex pants and a lime green tank top. Her sides spilled over resembling layers of a soft serve sherbet cone. Her spiky hair was bright neon yellow. She was a fluorescent fashion plate. Johnny's Rainbow Brite comment had been pretty accurate.

I wasn't the first person to make Vinnie want to hide in his office. Not only was he a womanizing weasel, but he was also a gambling card cheat. One time, Mickey Gritch kidnapped him for racking up a six figure debt. After that incident, Vinnie beefed up security and turned his office into a panic room. It was easier for him to change the office rather than try to change his bad habits. That would have been like asking Bob to sprout feathers.

My patience was wearing thin—not that I had much patience to begin with. My manicures usually end up getting smudged opening a candy bar wrapper. Hey, don't judge me. I get hungry when I'm bored.

After a short break, I resumed my efforts of trying to coax Vinnie out until Lula interrupted me.

She maneuvered her legs around and put her feet up on the coffee table. "You're using up way too much energy. I'm exhausted just watching you. All you're gonna get from kicking that door is a stubbed biggie toe. Just shoot the door."

"I can't shoot the door! It's solid steel. The bullet will ricochet and probably hit somebody." The only gun capable of putting a hole in that door was attached to a M1A2 Abrams tank.

"What if you tried to shoot the handle off?" Connie suggested.

I sighed and wiped my sweaty forehead with the sleeve of my t-shirt. Plopping my butt down on the couch, I rested my head on the back and stared at the ceiling. "I don't think that is going to work either."

"Not with that crappy attitude it won't. You gotta attack your problems with a positive outcome in mind. Like I do," Lula said.

"The problem with shooting the door has more to do with the laws of physics than my determination," I responded dryly, lolling my head in her direction.

"Then think of it like a math problem. You know with the trajectory of angles and shit. I learned about that in one of my night classes. It's the same principle you use in a game of pool. Just aim the gun to make the bullet bounce that way." Lula pointed her finger past my nose. "You know what I mean?"

I didn't need to look to know she was pointing at Johnny. "Oh yeah, that makes total sense," I mocked. "I'll just go ahead and try to shoot off a military grade, titanium alloy door handle. And with your scientific, pool game theory, I'll probably put Johnny in the hospital."

"Damn skippy. Now you're thinking like Lula," she announced.

"Why shoot me?" Johnny whined. "It was her idea. Have the bullet bounce toward her."

I sat up, looked at the door and back to Lula. That would be an impossible bank shot for me. I'd probably end up nailing Connie. This is ridiculous. "Doesn't matter. I don't have a gun."

"I do," the three of them volunteered in unison.

"Ugh," I scrubbed my hands over my face.

If Vinnie wasn't coming out on his own, I'd have to flush him out, but how? The gears started turning, but the answer wasn't forthcoming. Maybe if I got up and walked around something would come to me. I leaned on the edge of Connie's desk and looked outside.

Lula's nose print on the plate glass window distracted me. Every time I saw it, I had a flashback. The smudge had been there for a few months now, and there wasn't a threat of someone wiping it off anytime soon. None of us girls did windows, and Vinnie was too cheap to hire a window washer.

_Lula, Connie and I had been reminiscing about the time Lula made an awful casserole. Joyce Barnhardt took it from me and ate it. Afterward, she'd been sicker than a dog._

_Joyce was the reason my first husband, Dickie Orr, was now my ex-husband. He'd allowed me to come home one day to find him polishing my dining room table with the back of Joyce's shirt. Sadly, Joyce had still been wearing her shirt, but Dickie hadn't been wearing any pants. _

_I don't think a lifetime of bad casseroles would make up for Joyce boinkng Dickie. Instead, I cancelled out the time she spit in my milk in kindergarten. It was difficult to chart how many times I settled a score with Joyce. She kept breaking my pencil._

_Anyway, we'd been in the office, laughing and having a great time. Then Lula had spotted Joe outside leaning against his car with his hands in his pockets. Wearing a faded navy t-shirt, faded blue jeans and a vibrant smile, he'd waved when our eyes met, and I'd run outside to greet him. It wasn't until later that I'd found out Connie and Lula had been watching us._

_I can still remember the conversation:_

"_What are you smiling about?" _

"_You." He tapped my nose with his index finger._

"_What is it you think I did now that probably wasn't my fault?"_

"_Nothing. We had a lunch date, remember?"_

"_Why didn't you tell me you were here?"_

"_I was enjoying the view." He pulled me into him by the bottom of my t-shirt._

"_We were just talking about the time Joyce barfed her guts out after eating Lula's casserole."_

"_I figured it had to be something good the way you were laughing. I didn't want to interrupt." His arm snaked around my waist, and he brushed a curl off my forehead._

"_Well, she deserved it." My hands slid up his chest to rest on his shoulders. _

"_Yeah, I'm sure she did," Joe chuckled. He let his thumb glide along my jaw line. "They always deserve it."_

"_What do you mean 'they'?"_

_He grinned "The bad guys. Somehow, someway, you always manage to smoke them out and give them what they deserve." _

_I felt the corners of my mouth tip up and lowered my gaze. My face felt like it had turned about ten shades of red. Staring at his neck, I thought about putting my lips on it to reciprocate the warm feeling I had from head to toe. I let the silence linger, hoping Joe would find more nice things to say about me._

"_I know it's not easy, what you do," he paused and tilted my chin up, "and I've got the ulcers to prove it, Cupcake." _

_I gave him a playful shove. In return, he gave me a toe-curling kiss. Joe had me walking on a cloud. An alarming growl from my stomach reminded us that it was time for lunch, but my purse was still in the office. I turned to go back in and saw Connie through the window fanning herself. Beside her, Lula had her nose pressed right up against the glass and was making kissy faces. _

_Later, Joe had fed me a sandwich back at his place. Once I was naked, he'd found all kinds of nice things about me. That smudge on the window reminded me of that wonderful day. The day Joe had said he was proud of me._

"So, Johnny, how do you know Vinnie?" I asked.

He shrugged. "His wife, Lucille's my cousin. Well, she's more like a sister to me."

And with that statement, I had my catalyst. I knew what I needed to do. It was time to start a fire and smoke that creep out. Vinnie was going to be one burnt weenie.

"Awww, that's sweet. Sounds like you guys are pretty close."

"She was always there for me growing up when I didn't have nobody else. She kinda looked out for me."

"I hear things about Lucille, and it amazes me just what a special woman she is," I said in a saccharine voice, making myself want to gag.

"Yeah, she's pretty great. She's like a sister to me. She looked out for me."

"Uh-huh, you said that." Oh boy, I had my work cut out for me if this was going to work how I planned. "But, I'm sure that wasn't a one way street. I'll bet you looked out for her too. Didn't you?"

Johnny nodded. "Yeah, she got chased by lots of boys. She was too good for all of them. I had to run 'em off. When Vinnie came along, I kinda liked him. He was the first guy she dated that had a sense of style."

"Vinnie's got a style of his own, all right," Connie sneered.

"You know what I just thought of, Johnny?" I mused.

"Where you left your gun?"

"No. I was just thinking that Vinnie's business is kind of Lucille's too. So, with you working here, that means you're still looking out for her in a way, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Johnny pondered on that for a second.

"In that case, I think Vinnie made a mistake in partnering you with me."

Johnny looked disappointed. "Vinnie said you'd probably give me a hard time about this."

"No, what I mean is—I think he assigned you the wrong bounty hunter. You see, someone else has been dragging the bonds office down for years. Her capture rate is pretty pathetic. I don't know why she wants to work here. She's a lousy bounty hunter. It's hurting Vinnie's reputation," I explained.

"Oh yeah?" The prospect of working with another female perked him right up.

Connie caught on quickly and nodded in agreement. She hated my arch nemesis, Joyce Barnhart, almost as much as I did.

Vinnie was Joyce's latest conquest. She used her big fake boobs on him as powers of persuasion to steal skips assigned to me. Vinnie usually caved since he was a perverted sex fiend, and Joyce was equally as twisted.

"Steph's right," Connie spouted. "That woman is always screwing around. It really disgusts me thinking of her inflicting pain on Vinnie's—reputation."

"Damn skippy. It's like a fuckin' zoo when she's here," Lula added.

The noises Joyce made, while doing God knows what to Vinnie's reputation, sounded like they were filming an episode for Mutual of Omaha's _Wild Kingdom_. The girls and I would take turns pretending to be Marlin Perkins and provide narration describing the obscure, beastly creatures.

Connie and Lula both had my back. They wanted Joyce gone just as much as I did.

"She's that bad, huh?" Johnny took in this information and rubbed at his chin. He was on the hook. I just needed to reel him in.

"Yup," I agreed with emphasis by popping the 'p'. "She and Vinnie are always in his office having—umm, private training lessons. But it's not helping. She really has problems. As a matter of fact, I think you should tell Lucille about her. Her name is Joy—"

All heads turned as Vinnie's door swung open. "Stephanie! My office! Now!"

Bingo.

"Goddamned bugs." Connie dumped out her pencil cup and began searching her desk.

I was surprised Connie had forgotten about Vinnie's ever-present listening devices, which I'd counted on to lure him out. She must have gone along with my 'changing partners' plan on pure Joyce hatred alone. That was good enough for me.

"Excuse me for a minute." I shuffled toward Vinnie's office. Before closing the door, I said to Johnny, "We'll continue this discussion after I go over some things with Vinnie. I'll tell him we've got it all worked out." Pausing momentarily, I came in with a strong finish, "I'm sure he doesn't want his wife, who is practically your sister, to have to come in here and bring the Hammer down—if you catch my drift."

"Stephanie, get your ass in here and shut the fucking door!" Vinnie barked.

Vinnie flinched as I slammed my palms down on his desk. "What the fuck, Vinnie?"

"Jesus, calm down, and I'll tell ya." He tugged at the collar of his dress shirt.

I plopped down in the in the leather guest chair in front of him. Normally I wouldn't let any part of me come in contact with the furniture in his office. I was too pissed off at the moment to worry about the bodily fluids currently adhering themselves to my jeans.

I glared at him with the most evil Burg stare my face could conjure. Vinnie wiped the sweat from his forehead before he finally broke the silence.

"This shit storm I've suddenly been thrown into is bad enough. I don't need any more problems with Lucille or her family. Especially not with her father, Harry the Hammer," he huffed.

"What shit storm? I suppose this has to do with the Pacino wannabe out there." I thumbed my fist at the door. "Don't bring me into your shit storm. I've had to roll in enough shit for you to last a lifetime."

"Christ, if you'd shut up a minute, I'll tell ya." He sat back in his chair and rested his hands on the arms.

Gesturing my hand with a roll from the wrist, I sat impatiently and waited for him to proceed.

"Here's the deal," he started, "JT is Harry's nephew."

"JT?"

"Yeah, him. Short for Johnny Thumbs." Vinnie waived his finger at the door. I glanced over my shoulder and hoped Johnny hadn't materialized on this side of it.

"A grown man should not be called Johnny, and he hates being called John. It was his father's name. Anyways, when JT was younger, he was kind of orphaned, and Harry and his wife took him in. Lucille and him were pretty tight growing up in the same house."

I nodded for him to continue.

"Well, JT has always been a real fuck-up. Lucille has a soft spot for him and does what she can to diffuse her father. Turns out, Harry was ready to disown him after his most recent incident. He kicked him out of the family business until he can prove himself by holding down a job."

"What did he do?"

Vinnie shook his head in disgust. "Jeez, didn't you watch the _Sopranos_? You don't ask guys like him those kinds of questions. That's part of mine and Harry's 'Don't ask—don't get killed' policy."

I gave him a dirty look and mumbled, "I wish you'd asked."

Vinnie picked up a pen and tapped it rhythmically on the desk. He stared off into space for a few seconds before saying, "I tell ya, sometimes, I wished I'd married one of them domesticated broads."

"Oh, I don't know, Vinnie. She seems very lovely. I think you and Lucille were made for each other," I quipped with a tight, squinty-eyed grin. "So what's the deal with Johnny?"

"Well, my wonderful wife got the bright idea he should work for me. Once Harry caught wind, he liked the plan. I tried every excuse in the book to get out of it. Finally, after lovely Lucille threatened divorce, Harry told me he'll pull his backing in my business if I don't let JT come work for me."

"I thought Harry got out of the bond business?"

"He did. But his accountant talked him back into it. Tax purposes and shit. So, cuz, you get it now? Unless you want to spend your life stuffing little cotton mice in cardboard tubes, you'll help me out on this. Nobody can survive on the wages they pay at the female products plant."

"So let him be a bounty hunter. Why does he need to be my partner?" I felt my eyebrows knit together.

"Cause he doesn't know jack shit about bounty hunting. Plus, I need you to keep an eye on him. He's a fuck-up, remember?"

"Have Ranger train him," I offered.

Ranger Manoso's special military training gave him the know-how and inspiration to open RangeMan Inc. RangeMan provided various services to their clients that result in keeping them safe and the bad guys off the streets.

As I said before, he was my mentor and sometimes partner. He has come to my rescue more times than I can count and somehow I've managed to get almost as many of his loaner vehicles blown up. Danger follows me around like my very own black storm cloud. The men at RangeMan tell me they get hazard pay just for working with me.

Ranger is a scary but desirable Cuban-American whose entire wardrobe is black. He has the ability to make men and women drop to their knees for very different reasons. I could picture him in the military pin-up calendar if there was one. In reality, his extremely private life would never allow it. He uses an intoxicating shower gel that definitely does not remind me of my grandpa. Ranger also happens to be the other topic Joe and I frequently argue about.

Ranger used to invite me into the side alley for stolen kisses. He knew how to bring out my Hungarian hormones. There were a couple times we took it further than kisses in a more private setting. Those incidents were during a break-up period with Joe. I hoped like hell that Joe never found out about it. I always wondered if he had. I know I didn't really want to know what Joe had done when we were in an 'off stage'.

"Already tried that. Ranger said he'd charge me for that service."

"That's ridiculous. Ranger never charges me for his services," I retorted.

Vinnie's grin stretched to his ears. "Pretty sure that's illegal in this state. Want me to ask your boyfriend?"

My eyes rolled so far back I had to roll my head around my shoulders to bring them forward again.

"How about I talk to Ranger? Maybe I could ask him to train Johnny as a favor to me?" _What was I saying?_ _Did I really want to owe Ranger a favor? I could ask him to name the favor in advance, so I knew right away if it would be worth the risk. On the other hand, how hard could it be to give Vinnie's rookie cousin in-law some pointers?_ I thought back to the perverted mobster wanna-be out front and blew out some air.

Vinnie brought me out of the internal debate. "I know what you're thinking, but you can just forget it." He crossed his arms in front of him like an umpire signaling 'safe' would. "Sides, Ranger took off to Florida. He ain't in town. I already got it all figured out. I got a plan that's gonna use this situation to my advantage and make money to boot."

Ranger and I will probably always remain friends because of our history. Recently, he's backed off and respected the relationship that Joe and I have. Joe and I have been in an 'on stage' for quite some time now. I wasn't surprised when Vinnie said Ranger was gone. Lately, Ranger has been gone a lot tending to one of his other RangeMan locations along the East Coast.

Deciding it was probably not a good idea being indebted to Ranger, the man of mystery, I opted to give Vinnie's suggestion a listen. "All right. I'll bite. What's your plan?"

"Ok, here's what's going to happen. You're going to take JT with you for a few weeks or so to every apprehension. He will think," Vinnie made quotes with his fingers, "that you are his partner. But actually, you're training him to work solo. I need you to make sure he knows the ins and outs of skip apprehension. Start out by teaching him what not to do. You're good at finding trouble and covering your tracks."

"What do you mean by that?" My eyes shrunk to slits boring holes into him.

"Nothing. Anyway, once he gets the hang of it, you're off the hook. I can set him up to take over the riskier ones you pass over to Ranger at a lower payout. This is going to save me a shit load of money."

"You put a lot of thought into this, huh Vinnie?"

"Yep," he boasted.

"Ranger's not going to like it if you replace him."

"I ain't replacing him, dummy. I'm taking the shit off his hands you should be doing if you had the balls. I still need him for the high stake bonds. Ranger will probably thank me. I'll bet he spends more money than he makes on the mid-level skips. The only reason he's taking the piss-ant shit is on account of you. So you don't feel bad."

"He told you that?"

"No. That's just my personal speculation. Before you came along, he wouldn't even look at a file that was less than four figures. Now he takes anything you pass on."

I was insulted by Vinnie's comment—I think. I wasn't sure what to think about Ranger's change in policy with taking on lower FTA bonds. I wasn't aware he had refused those kinds of skips before I came along. Did I really want the balls it took to bring in some of the creepy, mid-level scumbags Ranger handled? Nope. For sure not by myself. However, if I had the proper back-up, I could take on those mid-level skips. I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me. I definitely didn't want to have to rely upon Ranger's help for the rest of my life either. I could use this situation to my advantage as well. I have a business degree for cripes sake.

"What's in it for me?"

Vinnie had already admitted he planned to have a surplus of income. I would be doing all the base work. Plus, from my brief encounter with Johnny, he did not come across as an honors student. It could take more than a few weeks to get him trained, maybe even months. Why shouldn't I be entitled to hazard pay for working with Johnny?

"What do you mean? You get to keep your job. That should be incentive enough right there."

"I have a standing offer to work searches and distractions for RangeMan. You're going to have to come up with something better than that."

He shot me a smirk. "Your boyfriend won't mind you working _under_ Ranger?"

I ignored his innuendo. "Nope. Joe trusts me. He's confident enough in our relationship for me to make my own choices."

I hoped Vinnie didn't pursue that aspect further and call my bluff. Joe would shit an eggplant if I went to work for Ranger full-time. He trusted me. Joe didn't trust Ranger.

"So what's your offer?"

"I don't know. What were you looking for?" He threw the ball back in my court. Perfect.

"While I'm training Johnny, I get to keep all the money I make. It's only fair since I'm not charging you for the service of training him."

"He's gonna want to be paid. I can't afford to take that kind of hit. Where do you think that money's gonna come from?"

"You'll figure it out. Take it from your sex fund." He screwed up his face at me, but didn't say no. _Jesus, how much did he have in that fund? _

"Next, I want a percentage of the FTAs he brings in once he's solo, as a seniority fee. I'll settle for ten percent."

"You said that you weren't charging to train him," he spat while waving his arms.

"I'm not. A seniority fee is different. It includes the added prevention of Lucille finding out about Joyce." I was playing hardball now.

"That's blackmail!" He stewed for a full minute before breaking down. "I'll go five percent."

"Seven."

"Deal." He held out his hand for a handshake. I remembered what Lula said about him meeting with his staff in private and declined.

"I'm good. There is one last thing though." I was on a roll.

"What? You want to take the fillings outta my teeth, too?"

"No. Don't be so dramatic. I want to use Johnny from time to time. You know, to team up with me and Lula when we need some muscle."

"Sure. I actually like that one." I think I saw smoke puff from his ears as the wheels turned.

"Of course, I'll still want my seven percent of his take," I threw in quickly.

"Shit. Are you done now?"

"Yep. I'm good."

I had negotiated a great deal. Maybe I'd be able to get a decent set of wheels or take a well deserved vacation with Joe. We'd go someplace warm and sunny, where I could sit on a lounge chair with one of those fancy umbrella drinks in a coconut. We could have our own private beach. Joe could rub suntan lotion on my back. Not wanting my legs to burn, he'd rub lotion on my calves. Making slow circles, his hands would slowly move up my thighs. He'd hook his thumbs in my bikini bottom and—Argh!

Thumbs.

Damn, fantasy ruined.

"Earth to Steph." Vinnie was waving his hand in front of my face. "You're my cousin for Christ sake. Jesus. Quit moaning like that. Unless—wait, how are we related again? I'm willing to face a little shame if you are."

"You're sick, Vinnie. You're worse than scum. I think I'll need therapy now or something after hearing that."

"Whatever. If you're through bleeding me dry, get the fuck back to work."

I walked out of Vinnie's office and stopped right in front of Johnny, "Tell me about your skills, partner."


	3. Chapter 3

All characters you recognize from the J/E Plum series are borrowed for fun, not for profit.

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. All of your kind words have been very motivating and inspirational. Thanks for following me on this adventure.

I'd like to give a shout out to my personal pep squad; Carol, Julie and Kim. Thank you for all of your help and for cheering me on. I like to picture you all holding pink and silver pom-poms while doing this. It really does help.

Okay, let's rock n' roll. -T

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"What about the chick with all the problems?" Johnny smirked. He bobbed his head. "I forgot to ask if she was hot or not. I was thinkin' probably I could bang some sense into her."

"Uhh—well―Vinnie decided it was best to take care of her personally." I twisted a curl around my finger.

Simultaneous groans erupted from Lula and Connie at my remark. In their opinion, I had caved, losing the best possible chance of ridding the office from the wrath of Joyce. Lula was going to be pissed about Johnny being my new partner. I wasn't sure if I should tell her yet that the situation would only be temporary.

"Since we are going to be partners, I'd like to know a little more about your talents," I said, hoping to distract the girls.

Johnny's face lit up like a streetlight.

"My best talent would have to be my thumbs," he said.

"Oooh, girl. I've been waiting for this." Lula clapped her hands together. "Show her what you do with those nasty thumbs."

"When I was younger, I had an unfortunate accident, and my thumbs got broke right at the knuckle." He held his hands out, palms facing down and wiggled his thumbs. "It wasn't until I took up an interest with the ladies that I was aware of my—ahem—special talents. I owe this all to Trina Farina and one helluva night in the backseat of a Delta 88."

He made his hands into fists and sandwiched them together so his knuckles and palms were touching.

"I've had women say to me it's the best feeling they've had with somethin' that didn't need batteries. Size don't matter when you know how to work the spot." He quickly added, "Not that I have a problem in that area."

Johnny cracked his neck back and forth, and then shrugged the jacket up on his shoulders. Arms out and knuckles touching, he extended his thumbs straight up toward the ceiling. Glancing at me to make sure I was paying attention, he rotated his thumbs. They made a popping sound as they flicked around the double joint at the knuckle. His thumbs sped up, and he winked at me. I just stood there wide-eyed. After about thirty seconds of thumb popping turns, he stopped and placed his hands on his hips.

Connie put down her nail file and smirked. "Sooo, that's some talent, huh, Steph?"

"Yep, impressive," I drawled out. Johnny gauged my wide-eyed, tight-grinned reaction.

"That ain't impressive. That's just nasty. Can you believe some floozy actually gets off on that shit?" Lula shivered.

"Hey, lemon head! Don't judge until you've experienced the thumbs. I had one broad squirt clear up to my elbows." Johnny slid his hand up his forearm.

The mental image reminded me of the time Joe and I had gone to the county fair. We saw a cow give birth in the dairy building. The farmer had put on long rubber gloves and guided the slimy calf out. Gallons of clear fluid sloshed out of the mama cow and splattered up onto the glass window in front of us. I'd thought I was going to barf up my breakfast after witnessing that event, and now was no exception.

Lula clucked her tongue. "Now, how's that gonna catch a skip? What are you gonna do, orgasm them to death?"

Johnny responded to her with a shark's grin and jumpy eyebrows. Lula retaliated with a middle finger salute, and then shoved it down her throat, accompanied by a gagging noise.

Johnny reached for a donut, and Lula smacked his hand. "Don't be contaminating that box with them disgustin' thumbs. Go wash your hands!"

"My hands are clean." He held them up.

"We all saw what you just did. Just thinking 'bout that makes 'em dirty. If you want a donut, go wash 'em." Lula pointed to the bathroom.

I rubbed my temples and took a cleansing breath. "You can have a donut later. Right now I need to know what you're bringing to the table if you're going to be working with me. What else ya got?"

He looked up at the ceiling, and then lolled his head over to me. "I can do poetry. Wanna hear a poem?"

_Oh, my gosh. What was I in for with this guy?_

I sighed. "Sure, why not?"

Clearing his throat, he began, "Roses are red, violets are blue. You got a nice ass. How 'bout we screw?"

"Oh brother," Connie groaned.

I tried to stifle my laugh. "Does that stuff actually get girls?"

"Sometimes," he shrugged. "I get slapped a lot."

"Hunh, I'd do more than slap you if you said some shit like that to me," Lula huffed.

Johnny unbuttoned his coat and brushed the sides back, holding them in place with his hands on his hips. "Oh yeah? What would you do, sunshine?"

"First, I'd use some Lulajitsu on your ass," she began.

"You think so, huh?" He stepped in front of Lula, invading her personal space. "Then what?"

"Next, I'd string you up by them funky thumbs. Then I'd take my big ass glock outta my purse and pistol-whip you."

He took another step and towered above her. "And then?"

Lula looked down. "Oh Lord—tell me that's your gun."

"Yep. It's loaded too," he said.

"Ha!" Connie snorted. "He said that― never mind. I shoulda known you'd be the first one to give him a boner, Lula."

Lula shot Connie a dirty look. "Shut-up! I'll deal with you later."

"And you—" She glared at Johnny. "I'd slap you right now if I didn't think it would make you explode in your underpants." Giving him a shove, she added, "Get the hell away from me. That's disgustin'."

"I ain't wearing underpants, corn pop. Wanna find out? Push me again," Johnny dared Lula.

"That's it! Where's my gun? I'm just gonna shoot him." Lula stormed toward the file cabinet where she kept her purse.

"Oh-ho-ho—no!" Connie waved her arms. "If you wanna shoot him, take him outside. I don't need that kind mess in here. I mopped."

Looking down at the soiled tile, I noticed the tiny paper remnants littering the floor. Cocking my head, I observed, "You don't mop. You don't even sweep."

"Not anymore I don't," she snapped. Staring icily at Lula, she pointed her nail file. "Unless you're volunteering for domestic duties, no shooting people in this office."

"Nobody's shooting anyone, anywhere!" I declared sternly.

"Well, I need to do something. He's got my stomach all upset. Maybe I need a donut to calm my nerves."

Lula bent deep over the coffee table to open the bakery box and farted. The little 'oops' she squeaked meant it surprised her as much as it did the rest of us.

After selecting a jelly filled, she stood up, turned back around and said nonchalantly, "Excuse me. I feel better now."

Johnny backed up a few feet and waved his arms in a criss-cross motion. "Whoa, baby! You wanna tic-tac for that thing?"

Lula pointed at Johnny. "You shut up. I only have indigestion cause of you. My farts don't smell. Besides, this whole office smells like date night at the senior center on account of you. Did you take a bath in that shit?"

"I've been using this cologne for years. Women like how I smell."

"Do any of these women have their original teeth?" Lula sneered.

"Alright! Knock it off you two!" My veins were pulsing from the neck up.

"What?" Johnny pointed at Lula. "She started it."

Maybe trying to team us up was a bad idea. It would be more like a babysitting job for me to keep those two from killing each other. I should've negotiated a higher percentage with Vinnie.

"Enough." My eyes shifted back and forth between the two of them. It was only ten o'clock and I was already craving a chocolate bar. This was going to be a long day.

"I need you to focus, Johnny. What kind of skills do you have that will make you a good bounty hunter?" I needed something to work with. The thumb trick and poetry weren't going to help me pay the rent.

"I can shoot a gun," he offered helpfully.

"That's good, but we hardly ever shoot anyone."

He put his index finger to his lip while he thought some more.

"I'm big. Tall, I mean. Plus, I work out and shit. So, I'm in decent shape and a pretty fast runner. I can take a guy down in no time flat," he finished proudly, folding his arms in front of his chest.

I let out a sigh of frustration. "Well, I suppose that's a start."

"Aww, sweet cheeks, I'm gonna be there to protect you from now on. We're gonna make one helluva couple―I mean team," he corrected himself and swung his arm around my shoulder.

I ducked from under his grip. "Connie, who do you have for us?" I looked at Johnny and back to Connie, "And make it easy."

She handed me a file. "Shelly Mazanet—simple theft and resale case. She missed her court date yesterday."

"That's all?" I took the file from Connie and flipped it open.

"I got more, but let's see how you guys do on that one first." Connie put the other files back in her desk drawer.

I glanced over the information in the file. Shelly Mazanet, twenty-six, 5'4" and single.

"No mug shot?"

Connie shrugged and scratched her head with a pencil. "I'll give it to RangeMan if you don't want it."

I flipped through the pages. Shelly had worked at the feminine products plant. She'd been fired for stealing tampons and reselling them to her friends at a discount, but 100% profit for her. How fitting that my first case with Johnny was the workplace Vinnie had threatened me with. Looks like there was a way to make some money at the feminine factory after all.

"We got this," I said confidently.

The guys at RangeMan would have a field day humiliating me behind my back if I passed on an easy skip like Shelly. I hoped they enjoyed their fun while it lasted. Those days were over. From there on out, I was going to take every case Connie offered.

"Let's roll partner," I said to Johnny.

Lula muttered something under her breath. Rather than question her mumbling, I said my goodbyes and heard the bells chime against the door behind us.

"What a piece of shit," Johnny remarked about my car and held out his hand. I slapped him five, and he shook his head.

"Give me the keys," he commanded.

"This is _my _car, and I'm driving. You don't even know where you're going. Get in," I growled.

He pouted his way around the car, back to the passenger side. The dented door opened with a pop, and he folded his tall body in. His long legs rested against the dash.

"Christ, there's no leg room. I'll bet you don't do much fucking in this crappy thing. Turn the air on, will ya? I'm sweatin' like a pig in this suit." Old Spice scented sweat oozed from his pores.

"This car runs just fine and can get us from points A to B. Roll down your window. It's nice out." Without the fresh air, I would probably die from asphyxiation due to the toxic vapors he was emitting.

"Listen. This is our first apprehension together. Just hang back, listen and observe," I suggested.

"Ok. I'll keep my hand on my gun. Just in case. The fat chick said—"

"I don't care what _Lula_ said. No shooting! And don't call her fat. She's just big-boned," I corrected.

"Big-boned means fat. I hooked up with a chick from an on-line ad once who had that in her bio—_not_ that I got anything against thicker broads. I just thought big-boned meant something else. Talk about disappointment."

I wasn't going to touch his miscommunication subject with a ten-foot pole. Not even if I was wearing gloves.

"Let's just say Lula's voluptuous. Probably she wouldn't mind if you said that about her. Anyway, just leave your gun in the car. Shelly's not dangerous."

"Where is _your_ gun?" he questioned.

"At home."

_Unloaded and in my cookie jar_. But he didn't need to know that.

"I get along just fine without it. I have pepper spray and a taser for emergencies."

"Typical chick," he sighed, shaking his head.

"No. This isn't a macho contest. You have to remember that your main goal in this job is to bring the skip into the station. Not the morgue. For now, you are just observing. Pay attention. Watch and learn. Don't say or do anything. Got it?" I was impressed with my authoritative speech.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. No shooting, lay back, keep my mouth shut, blah-dee, blah, blah," he droned.

Obviously, he wasn't as impressed with my speech. "This is serious, Johnny. I need to know I can trust you."

"Look at this face," he pointed at himself. "Tell me this isn't a face you can trust." He roused a cheesy smile, and I rolled my eyes.

I parked the car a couple houses down from Shelly's, and we walked up to her door. It was a cute, yellow cape cod with white trim. Red geraniums filled the window boxes. I rapped at the door, and after a few seconds, it swung open.

"Holy shit!" Johnny exclaimed.

"What?" The freckle-faced, red headed woman standing before us looked up and down the street. Her hair wasn't just red. It was an orangish-burgundy and permed so tight, I assumed they used golf pencils as rollers.

"Your hair—it's orange," Johnny observed bluntly.

She patted her curls at the back of her neck. "You like it? It's my natural color." _Poor girl._

"Makes me wonder if the valance matches the carpet," Johnny said with a wolf grin. His eyes traveled the path from the top of her head down to the crotch of her jeans.

The girl just smiled up at him. Probably the closest thing she'd had to a compliment in a long time. I imagine she spent her Friday nights grocery shopping and Saturday night prepping her meals for the next week.

"Are you Shelly Mazanet?" She nodded to me. "We represent the Vincent Plum Bond Agency. You missed your court date yesterday, and we're here to bring you down to get rescheduled."

She looked down at her pink fuzzy slippers. "I'm sorry. I was out looking for a job. After Grandma passed away, she left me this house. It's hard to keep up with all the bills by myself. I need to get something lined up before anything goes on my record."

Sounded like a valid reason to me. My own personal bank account teetered in more of a grayish area rather than black most of the time. Hopefully that would be changing soon with the additional income I was anticipating.

It wasn't my place to hash out whether her actions were right or wrong. I just needed to get her down to the station, so I could get my hands on some more files that Connie was hoarding. Time to impress Johnny with my magical coaxing skills.

"I see. You're not getting sentenced today. I just need you to come down to the station with us and reschedule your court date. You can look for a job when you get back. My mom told me the button factory is hiring," I offered.

Her tiny smile morphed into a frown. "What if they don't let me leave? I have student loans and house payments to make. What if I get down there, and they throw me into the slammer? I can't go to the big house. I need to make money somehow until I get can published. I'm an aspiring writer. I'm sensitive and gentle." She sucked in a gasp, "What if some Amazon named Big Bertha wants to make me her prison playmate?"

Shelly was on the verge of hyperventilating. After alleviating her worries, I instructed her to breathe and calm down. She really hadn't thought out the consequences of her illegal actions. I rubbed her upper arm reassuringly once and stepped back.

"I'll tell you what. I'll call Connie at the office and have either her or Vinnie meet us there. That way you can get bonded out again right away. I'll make that call, but only if you promise to keep your next court date." I held my breath waiting for her to respond.

"Okay. Only if you're positive I won't get thrown in jail," she fretted and lowered her gaze.

Johnny stepped in and rubbed her shoulder. "Absolutely, my little tangerine. You wouldn't wanna miss our date tonight."

Shelly's head snapped up. "You want to go on a date with me?"

"Sure, okay. Since you asked so nicely." Johnny gave her a wink. "Anyways, I still wanted to find out about the carpet color. Are you a shag or more like a berber?" He zoomed in on her jeans again.

_What the hell was he doing?_ I angled my foot into the doorjamb, so she couldn't slam it shut. Maybe we should just leave. This was turning into a harassment case very quickly. The donut I'd eaten earlier now felt like a lump of cement in my stomach. What happened next wasn't what I had anticipated.

She made a tight lipped grin and swatted at his chest. "Oh, you! Come on in. I just need to put my shoes on and grab my purse."

"I just thought of a poem for you, curly-q. Wanna hear it?" Johnny asked.

I glowered at Johnny. "We should really be going. You can tell it to her on the way."

"I love poems! I'm an English major. I want to hear it now," Shelly bubbled.

"Okay. I made this one up special for you, chili pepper." Johnny cleared his throat and started, "Roses are red. Carnations are pink. Tonight, I'll have your panties off before you can blink."

"You're funny," she giggled and scampered off to grab her shoes.

I waited till Shelly was out of earshot. "What the hell was that? What happened to keeping your mouth shut and observing?" I was livid.

"Hey, it all worked out, right? She's going to the station to get rescheduled. We'll get paid, and later, I'm going to get laid. Everyone's happy."

"You're going to get us involved in some sort of sexual harassment case. This is serious business. You can't treat the skips like that!"

"Hey, sexual harassment ain't no joking matter." Johnny rubbed his chin. "She does have nice cans though."

"You're unbelievable! This could have gone so terribly wrong."

"But it didn't. So quit bitching."

I held my tongue for now. Not because he was right, but because I was afraid that I might ask him for his gun so I could shoot him with it.

I tried to busy myself with the décor of Shelly's themed interior. I didn't see or smell a cat, but apparently she had a thing for them. Looking around the house, I noticed several porcelain cats and cat puzzle pictures on the walls.

"How long does it take someone to find shoes?" Johnny mused.

"So are you really going to take her out tonight?" It did seem like Shelly had been gone for a while.

"Heck yeah! Homely girls can be real freaks in the sack. They kinda live in their own kinky, little fantasy world." He smirked and took in the sights of the room. "Sides, I ain't got nothing better to do other than sit around that motel room, get drunk and jerk off." _Charming. _

"Was she going to meet us down there?" he wondered quizzically.

"No, why?" I looked down the hall lined with feline portraits toward the kitchen.

"Cause I just saw an orange brillo pad float by the window. Either she just took off on her bike, or she's out there practicing for the roller derby."

We ran out the front door and watched Shelly round the corner on her cruiser bike. Johnny took off after her in a rapid sprint. I hopped in my car to catch up to them. _Why would anyone choose to run when they could drive? _

I followed Shelly's trail and reached them a block and a half away. Johnny was straddling the front tire, leaning on the handlebars. Shelly seemed quite amused with whatever Johnny was saying.

"She's excited about our date," Johnny boasted. "Her car is almost out of gas, so she's been using her bike."

"I just wanted to get some supplies from the store for our romantic evening together. There's a new Buck Barn in the strip mall down the road. You can find everything there, and I'm on a budget," Shelly explained.

"Why didn't you tell us you were leaving?" I asked.

"I was coming right back. Honest. I wasn't going to run off."

"I'll ask Connie if she can make a stop at the store before bringing you home. Let's bring your bike back and get the house locked up. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get everything ready for your big date with Johnny."

Making a Y-turn, I headed back to her house. I pulled in the driveway, just in case she had more gas in her car than she led us to believe.

I made the call to Connie requesting her services. She said she'd meet us at the station and promised to take Shelly shopping afterward. In return, I promised to relay any repulsive date details offered my way.

After Johnny helped Shelly lock up, they piled into the Toyota, and we headed on our way. Thankfully, Shelly was a petite girl. My backseat barely accommodated my purse, let alone a full grown person. Shelly sat behind me, because Johnny's seat was reclined and almost touching the backseat.

"So, how's this work, apple cheeks? After we turn her in, I mean. Do the cops give us a check or somethin'?" Johnny asked.

"No. We'll get a receipt for Shelly's recovery, take it back to the office, and Connie pays us."

Actually, Connie would be paying me. Johnny would have to get his money from Vinnie. I turned on the radio as an attempt to distract him from asking more questions.

Johnny turn awkwardly in his seat and rubbed Shelly's knee. "So pumpkin-head, you ever had a thumb-gasm?" _Jeez, not again._ I pressed down on the gas and hurried the trip along.

While Connie dealt with Shelly's paperwork, Johnny and I stood at the desk with Chrissy, the clerk, who was busy writing out our body receipt. Johnny sweet-talked Chrissy with his cornball lines, and she did her best to give him the cold shoulder.

Chrissy was new and worked part-time. A few years younger than me, she was girl next door cute. She was also quiet but had been pleasant in our previous encounters. Her bouncy, pale blonde hair was perfect and never out of place.

Trying to ignore their conversation and looking around the station, I smiled as Joe sauntered in my direction. He had a distressed red, short-sleeved shirt tucked into his perfect-fit jeans, because, of course, Joe considered wearing a button-down shirt to be dressing up.

"Hiya, Cupcake." He pulled me in for a hug and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

"Joe, I'd like you to meet Johnny. He's my new partner."

Morelli quirked an eyebrow, and I mouthed an inaudible 'later'.

Giving me a slight nod, he extended his hand to Johnny for a manly handshake. "Nice to meet you, Johnny. You guys staying out of trouble?"

"We just brought in our first skip together, and I'm still clean. No trouble so far." My response dripped with sarcasm.

Johnny took a step back and leaned on the bar height counter. "This might be the best gig I've ever had. I plan to pick up lots of tail with this job."

Joe shot me a suspicious look. Time to reassure my sexy spaceman that I wasn't Johnny's potential victim.

"Johnny has a date lined up with Shelly for tonight. She's the FTA we just brought in." I smiled.

"I see." Joe wrapped his arm under mine. "Steph, can I talk to you for a minute privately?"

I really didn't want to leave Johnny alone with Chrissy. The last thing I needed was a pissed off clerk that we saw on an almost daily basis. On the other hand, if Joe was concerned about my partner, Johnny, I needed to rectify that issue right away.

Joe saw my hesitation. "Please?"

"What did you want to talk about?" I asked as he guided me over to the vending machines.

"Eddie wanted me to give you a warning about your lead foot. I didn't think it was appropriate to reprimand you in front of your new partner." Stuffing his hands in his front pockets, Joe rocked back on his heels.

"I don't need to be reprimanded at all. I was only like five miles over. That's hardly speeding," I pointed out.

He put on his cop face. "One mile over can be considered speeding, Steph."

"Who would go through all the hassle of a ticket for that? All I'd have to say is a gust of wind came along and the judge would throw it out."

"Just slow down, and you won't get a ticket," he said and bounced his palms toward the floor.

"Maybe I'll just have to bribe the officer." Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I added in a little girl voice, "Why Officer, whatever am I being charged with?"

"You're not fooling me with that innocent tone. Naughty girls like you should be handcuffed," he retorted and folded his arms. I think he was afraid of groping me on impulse.

His sexy tone gave me an instant hot flash. I wondered how far I could push him before he dragged me into his office, so we could continue our role play conversation with a lot more touching. I knew there were boundaries he wouldn't cross in the middle of the police station. To the outside observer, we were just having a casual discussion.

"Mmmm, I might enjoy that, Officer. I'm not hiding anything, but you can go ahead and search me, if you want to." I batted my eyelashes at him.

"I might just do that." Joe clasped his arms behind his back and pinned them by leaning against the soda machine. I was definitely having an effect on him.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "I can be very thorough, Ms. Plum." The way he emphasized the word '_very'_ gave me goose bumps.

"You still haven't told me what I'm being charged with, Officer."

I ran my finger down Joe's chest. He shook his head with a devilish grin. The look he gave me said I was pushing all the right buttons. I guessed within two minutes, I'd be lying flat on my back on top of Joe's hastily cleared off desk.

"That's assaulting an officer, ma'am. I'm afraid I'll have to— shit!" Joe's phone buzzed, and he checked the message.

"Damn. I gotta get going. They're ready for me in the interrogation room," he stated with disappointment. "We'll have to test your bribing skills later."

"Looking forward to it, Officer. See you at dinner?" I leaned into him.

"I'll try my best." He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Be good, Cupcake." He hollered in Johnny's direction. "Nice meeting you, Johnny."

Johnny gave him a mild salute in return.

Remembering how important this witness was from our discussion that morning, I cupped my hands to my mouth.

"Good luck!"

Joe gave me a backhanded wave, and I watched his perfect ass disappear as he turned into the interrogation room.

I don't know what transpired between Johnny and the clerk, but it appeared as though he'd struck out. He was sitting on the mission bench, writing in his spiral notebook. Tucking it back into his jacket as I approached, he pulled out the body receipt, signaling we were good to go.

"So? How'd it go? Did you get a date for tomorrow with Chrissy?" I questioned.

"Nah, chicks like her don't go out with guys like me."

His response hadn't exactly answered my question. _Did he not ask her out or did she turn him down?_ If it was the latter, the martyr in me was disappointed in having missed her rejection to his proposal.

I thought about Chrissy. She wasn't stuck up and seemed pretty nice. She was attractive, but not drop-dead gorgeous. As far as I knew, she was single. He might've had a chance with her, but Johnny was like a circus. You never knew what crazy stunt he would perform next.

That only roused my curiosity more.

"I think you should ask her out. The worst she can do is say no. Chrissy is shy sometimes. I know she's pretty. You don't think she's stuck-up or something, do you? Because that was just Chrissy acting like Chrissy."

_Oh no, I was doing it again._

Averting crisis, I pulled myself right back in.

"She's not my type. She would never—ahh, forget it." He slapped his hand at the air. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

_He had a type? _I thought breathing and female was his type.

We headed out to the parking lot in silence. I was feeling pretty hungry and thought about picking up Cluck-in-a-Bucket chicken for everybody.

"Where should I take the little firecracker out tonight?" Johnny asked, looking at me over the top of the car.

I thought about it as we scrunched into the Toyota.

"Oh, I don't know. Rossini's is pretty nice," I sighed.

The last time Joe had taken me there for dinner was a romantic memory. The food had been fabulous. Dessert had been decadent. What happened after dinner had been even more memorable.

I sighed again, and Johnny gave me a perplexed look as I put my keys in the ignition.

"Sounds expensive. I don't want her thinking I'm making some kind of investment. There's no implication of commitment with a sack of burgers and a bottle of chocolate syrup. I'll be dessert, and she can be the cherry on top," he chuckled, elbowing me.

Burgers sounded good, but chicken was cheaper. I didn't anticipate anyone back at the office chipping in for lunch. Drive-thru chicken would be quick. It was awkward, but bringing Shelly in had gone fairly easily. Maybe we could bring in another one or two more skips that day.

"Why are we just sittin' here?" Johnny questioned. "Are you okay? You look kinda pale. Maybe we should hit up the deli. I didn't eat nothin' yet today."

"Let's get chicken. Do you like chicken?" I asked.

My stomach growled loudly at the thought of food. Leaning forward, I grimaced and pressed on my stomach to quiet the rumbling. Sometimes that would quiet my intestinal beast, but today the pressure just provoked it. The next hunger pang resembled a squeaky door that climbed all the way up my throat. Groaning at the noise, Johnny took it to mean something else.

"Damn it, you're mad. Aren't you? Jeez, what a schmuck I am."

"Huh?" I turned my head in his direction. _Mad? What the hell was he talking about?_

"Look, sweetie, I never woulda asked Red out in front of you if I knew you were the jealous type." He released a long breath out of his nose. "Now I know why you don't want me to talk to the skips. I felt a connection between us when we first met in the office. It's a curse the way chicks can sense my raging pheromones. I wish I could just turn 'em off. My aunt always said they would get me in trouble with the ladies."

_It's your mouth that gets you into trouble, idiot_. _All I'd felt back at the office had been nausea. What a moron._

I feigned a smile. "No, that's not it. I think I'm just hungry."

"Don't be embarrassed about it. I really didn't mean to hurt you. You're probably all worked up after seeing me put the moves on that Chrissy chick too. Well, I already asked her out, and she said no if it makes you feel any better. Washing her hair or some bullshit like that."

He slicked back his hair in frustration and put his hand on my back. Apparently, he was trying to comfort me, because he started rubbing my back. I didn't need comforting. I needed food before I became even more irritable. I hoped my shirt wasn't covered with the oil from his hand. _Dawn dish soap got grease out, right?_

"My thumb visual this morning probably had you creamin' in your jeans. You gotta be feelin' pretty frustrated sexually right now," he added, and I lost my appetite.

"Please stop," I pleaded.

I stole a quick glance at the anger-meter in his pants to see if he could sense my frustration was anything but sexual right then. Nope, nothing had protruded. He must've thought I was genuinely jealous and upset.

"Tell you what, let's go back to your place, and I'll throw one into you before we go back to the office. I'd take you back to my place, but it's a real shit-hole. I mean, it's got a waterbed and all, so it's got a little class. Only, I'm not sure they're up on their housekeeping. Couple nights ago, I lost a sock. I was digging around the side of the mattress and pulled out a band-aid."

He paused for a few beats before continuing, "Plus, the walls are paper thin. Are you a screamer?"

"Seriously, stop talking," I begged.

"I'll take that as a yes. Can you take the afternoon off? I can get you off in ten or fifteen minutes, but you'll want the rest of the day to recoup."

Good thing my stomach was empty, or the contents would be in my lap right then. I put my elbows on the steering wheel and rubbed my face. I was stuck between screaming and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. I must have made a movement that combined the two, because Johnny moved his hand up and rubbed my shoulder.

"Don't cry, Cupcake. I'll cancel with the little carrot-top if it makes you feel better."

_That did it._ I was so mad, I was shaking. Him calling me sugar buns, apple bottom and whatever else he'd said, I could handle. But Cupcake had definitely crossed the line. My gears shifted from anger to fury before locking into rage.

"Don't. Ever. Call. Me. Cupcake! Only Joe, my boyfriend, the cop, who you just met inside, gets to call me Cupcake, you dumbass!"

"Okay, okay!" He held his hands up in a truce gesture. "Jesus, you don't have to get all bitchy about it. What? Are you on the rag or somethin'? If that's the case, we'll just put a towel down and―"

"AAAHHHHHHH!"

Johnny cupped his hands to his head during my ear-piercing scream.

Squealing the tires out of the lot, I raced back toward the bonds office. Johnny fumbled with his seat belt and braced himself against the dash. I didn't care if Eddie gave me ten tickets for all the red lights I ran. After slamming the car in park, daggers shot from my eyes at Johnny. Rapidly and with increasing volume, I yelled, "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

He just sat there and gave me a puppy dog face.

"So... I take it we're not going back to your place?"


	4. Chapter 4

_All characters you recognize from the J/E Plum series have been borrowed for fun, not for profit._

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. I think you're all pretty swell for taking the time to do that. On to the next one. Have a super groovy week!

- T

* * *

**Chapter 4**

"I'm dreaming. This is just a bad dream, a nightmare. Any minute now, I'm going to wake up and―"

Johnny interrupted, "Listen, Doll-face, I think we―"

"No! _You_ listen, you overgrown…" I uttered a string of incoherent syllables, trying to come up with a witty but insulting name. Drawing a blank, I spat, "Asshole!"

Several deep breaths passed through my nose before I continued. "Let me make this perfectly clear. I am not jealous of anyone you date, because I am not interested in you. I'm definitely not attracted to you. Right now, I despise you. There will never be anything between you and me. And, just in case you need it to be repeated, I have a _boyfriend_!"

"All right, jeez, I got it. You can't blame a guy for trying." He reached into the backseat and deposited my purse in my lap. "You really need to get a grip. Why don't you dig around in there and find your Midol? Them hormones of yours―"

Letting out an intense, agitated roar, I jumped out of the car and slammed the door. It popped back open, so I slammed it again. Hoisting my bag up on my shoulder, I stormed through the office door where Connie and Lula stared at me bug-eyed.

"Grab your purses. We're going to lunch," I announced.

"Great. I'm starved. I ain't had nothin' to eat today," Johnny said, as he swaggered through the door behind me.

Through clenched teeth, I punctuated each word with a stern poke to his chest. "You." _Poke_ "Are." _Poke_ "Staying." _Poke_ "Here!" _Poke_.

"What am I supposed to eat?" he whined.

Connie reached into her desk and pulled out a package of orange peanut butter crackers.

"Here." She tossed him the package. "Tell Vinnie I'm going to lunch. If he doesn't come out here, turn the sign and lock the door. And don't answer the phone. Let the machine get it."

Johnny's mouth was still hanging open as the three of us scrambled out the door.

"Whoo-wee, girl! I ain't seen you that mad since—" Lula thought for a second. "I guess since never. I was even a little scared. What'd that greazy Italian do that's got you all riled up?"

"I need to calm down and eat first," I replied, pacing the sidewalk frantically.

"We're taking my car," Connie announced. "You're likely to cause an accident in your state. Where do you want to go?"

I climbed into the back, and Lula rode shotgun.

"Someplace where I can get a beer," I stated.

"Shorty's it is," Connie decided, and we pulled out of the lot.

It seemed both of my friends were afraid to sit next to me, because Connie smooshed herself into the booth next to Lula. While we ate, they talked about fashion or hair or something like that, I think. I really wasn't paying attention. I was too busy stewing about the male chauvinist pig I'd been saddled with.

_I'm doing this for the money. I'm doing this for the money. _The words were like a drumbeat in my head.

"What are you doing for money? Jackass Johnny isn't trying to pimp you out, is he?" Lula wagged her finger at me.

"What? No!" _Note to self: keep your lips closed when talking to yourself._

"Huhn, he better not," Lula grunted, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Listen girl, if you ever get that desperate for cash, you should think about selling sex toys for one of them home party deals. Once you get them women liquored up, they'll be buying that shit like crazy. Hell, I spent so much at one party that I had to live on mac 'n cheese for like a whole month. I mean the cheap store brand shit. Not the good kind."

"I'll keep that in mind." Licking the last of the barbecue pork off my fingers, I held my empty bottle up to signal the waitress for another.

"Whoa, Steph. You think that's a good idea?" Connie asked. I held my bottle up higher and glared at her.

"Let the girl drown her sorrows."

Lula was a good friend to support me when I was down. I mentally commissioned a shiny gold star for her and tried to figure out if it could be pinned on her chest with all that cleavage spilling out of the top.

"I'm just glad we took your car, seeing as I had the interior detailed on my baby. I don't need no barbecue-beer-pork throw up contaminatin' it."

_Scratch my kind thoughts. _

I knew _right _where to stick that star, and I'd make sure it was real pointy.

"I'm _fine_. I know my limits."

The waitress set the beer in front of me and took the empty away. After all the beer and pizza nights I'd had with Joe, I think I was building up an alcohol tolerance. This was my third beer, and I knew a fourth would put me into snoresville.

Connie waited for the waitress to clear the table before leaning in, "All right, you've had your food and several drinks. Now spill. What happened?"

"Ugh, I don't know where to begin. Wait― yes I do. He's a big, stupid jerk. He smells like a spiced squid. He has no manners, the worst pick-up lines, but yet he managed to get a date for tonight. Then, God knows why, he somehow thought I had the hots for him, and that I was jealous of Shelly." I assumed Connie had briefed Lula about Johnny's date situation.

"The worst part was when he tried to console me by offering to—" I had to stop and cringe before I could finish my sentence. "Throw one into me at my place before we came back to the office."

I sat back and waited for them to soak in my confession of the embarrassing ordeal. My eyes tennis-matched between their frozen expressions. Clearing her throat, Connie covered my hand with both of hers.

_Here it comes, the sympathy I desperately needed._

"Stephanie, it's not uncommon for co-workers of the opposite sex to become attracted to one another. Office romance happens all the time. When a man and a woman are around each other day-in and day-out, they start to develop feelings for each other. If they weren't working together, they probably wouldn't give each other a second glance," she said matter of factly.

"Yeah, look at you and Batman," Lula agreed.

Lula liked to refer to Ranger as Batman, because he dressed mostly in black. In addition, he was the kind of guy who would scare the shit out of any criminal in a dark alley at night.

I shot Lula an evil glare for bringing up the taboo subject.

Connie quickly realized my irritation. "Uhh, that's not exactly what I meant. I was thinking more along the lines of how opposites attract. For example, why do you think so many wrinkly-faced politicians hook up with their secretaries?"

"Hunh, it ain't just their faces that's all wrinkly. Even after you fluff them old geysers up, they still got a shriveled hot dog hanging between their legs." Lula picked at her teeth with her thumb nail. "I'd say, honey, unless you like getting pinched, you're putting on your own love glove."

"You slept with politicians?" I asked, slightly taken aback.

Before there was Lula the file clerk, there'd been Lula the 'ho—_her_ words, not mine. I never gave much thought to the guys she may have serviced in the past. I just figured they were all your average Joe. Not my Joe, of course. He was well above average.

"Hell yes, I did. I was in demand, and they didn't always want to play hide the salami neither. Politicians are into some weird shit. It's a good thing for them I wasn't a blabbermouth like some 'ho's. You'd be shocked at what kind of sickos are running this country. I don't even like to vote anymore."

"See, everyone has sexual urges, Steph. Sometimes an attraction can happen very quickly. You know, love at first sight and all that. In a close working situation like yours, it's bound to happen. You have to be able to interpret your partner's next action without speaking. It requires a special bond." Connie still had my right hand trapped between both of hers, and it was starting to feel sweaty.

"Uh-huh." I listened intently for Connie's observational wisdom to help me deal with Johnny. I found myself nervously picking at the yellowed epoxy on the wooden table which flaked off like old nail polish.

"Now, I want you to carefully think about Johnny. Evidently, you have quite a few emotions stirring right now because of him. You have to be totally honest with me because how you answer this question may very well affect your entire future."

Connie looked deeply into my eyes, and I took a large swig of beer, as I hung onto her every word. "Steph—are you jealous of his date?"

I ripped my hand away to cover my mouth before I spit beer in her face. Both Lula and Connie exploded with laughter.

Thinking back, Connie had probably deserved a beer shower.

"You're scum, Rosolli!" I dropped my shaking head into my hands. Special bond my ass. Once again the butt of Connie's sarcastic humor, I should've seen it coming.

"Oh, shit. That's funny." Connie slapped the table.

It really wasn't.

Connie thought she was the queen of comedy after her stupid Dr. Phil moment because of how hard Lula was laughing. The thing she never realized, however, was that people were laughing at her actual laugh, _not_ her jokes.

Connie's laugh, when she exhaled, sounded like a rhesus monkey screech. When she inhaled, it was the sound a hippopotamus would make if he were to step on that monkey. No, maybe it was more like a donkey's hee-haw. Well, that wasn't exactly the right description either. _Anyway_, it was super hilarious when she did it, but no one ever told her how funny it sounds, because we don't want her to stop.

Pretty soon everyone in Shorty's was looking over at our table and giggling, trying to figure out who was playing the accordion off-key. Connie and Lula's laughter was infectious, and I soon joined in. I was still angry, but alcohol made it easier for me to laugh.

Lula calmed herself down to a mild chuckle. "Girl, I ain't laughed that hard since one of my johns shut his pecker in the car door. You gotta break that shit down for us. I want details."

The girls continued to roar with laughter, while I enlightened them about my first excursion with Johnny. I expected us to be kicked out soon due to the noise level.

"Hunh, I'da thrown my fist in his face if he'd said that shit to me." Lula folded her arms in front of her and did that circle thing with her head, brazenly moving it about her shoulders. "You need to dump his ass and remember who your real partner is."

Lula was hurt and thought she'd been replaced. I needed to give her some reassurance.

"We're still partners. Believe me, you're a much better partner than Johnny."

"Then why didn't you take _me_ with you today? I heard you call him partner. Vinnie said he's your new partner. I don't get what's going on."

"Well, he is my partner too. Kind of. It's complicated."

"What's complicated? This just don't make no sense. All I know is I can't live on my filing wages alone. I count on that bond money we share. I'm accustomed to a certain lifestyle. I've got rent to pay and beauty regiments to upkeep. How's this gonna work? Is there gonna be a schedule, or am I supposed to duke it out with Johnny Revolta to get to be your partner for the day? All this stress is gonna give me diarrhea. Where's the dessert menu?"

"He reminds me more of Andrew Dice Clay," Connie observed and handed Lula the dessert card.

I took another long pull from my beer. They were going to find out the truth sooner or later. I was afraid the amount of alcohol would cause me to divulge too much information. Just a few beers would normally give me diarrhea of the mouth. Sometimes I wished that I were two people, so I'd have someone to bounce ideas off of without embarrassing myself. They didn't need to know all the details about my negotiations with Vinnie. I had to choose my words carefully.

"It's not a competition, Lula. I'll be working with both of you. It's just that right now I'm sort of training Johnny. You already know the ropes for picking up skips. You could even pick up a few on your own. Once he gets the hang of it, it'll be me and you again. Johnny will either be working solo, or sometimes the three of us will work as a team. I'm sure you can see the advantages of that."

"Why are you training him? Somethin's fishy." Lula motioned for the waitress to take our dessert order.

Connie and I decided to split a piece of double fudge chocolate cake. Lula ordered her own. I hoped enough time would pass for Lula to forget about the conversation.

"I really like your purse, Connie. Is it new?" I asked.

"No, I've had this bag for months. And you're changing the subject. Since when did you become the resident trainer for bounty hunters? Why isn't Ranger training him?" Connie's forehead rumpled as she rubbed her chin.

"Ranger is out of town. Anyway, I can train Johnny. I've been doing this long enough." I ignored Connie's snort and continued, "By the time I'm through with him, he'll be picking up the mid-level skips. That way we can keep more money in-house."

"He's gonna get the skips your skinny ass is too chicken-shit to go after?" Lula asked.

"I'm not chicken-shit. I'm just…selective," I clarified.

"So, you're taking money out of RangeMan's pocket and putting it into Johnny's? That's harsh, girl. I know you hooked up with Officer Hottie, but Batman don't deserve to get dissed like that." Lula was getting way off topic.

"RangeMan doesn't want the skips Johnny will be going after. They're not even worth their time," I explained. "Besides, Vinnie isn't going to pay Johnny as much as he would have to pay RangeMan."

"So, you're helping Vinnie increase his cash flow out of the kindness of your heart? Huh-uh. I think he's blackmailing you. What kind of dirt's that scumbag got on you?" Lula folded her arms.

"He's not blackmailing me, Lula. I'm doing this to better myself—a personal challenge, if you will." I looked between them both guardedly. They returned their own suspicious glares. The awkward silence made me anxious.

"I'm going to play the jukebox. Any requests?" I was barely out of my seat when Connie grabbed my arm and forced me back into it.

"Vinnie cut you a deal, didn't he?" Connie narrowed her eyes at me.

"Well, sort of." Shrugging, I nervously picked at the chipped table surface again.

"What kind of deal?" Lula asked.

I sighed and said, "I didn't want to say anything, until I knew he was going to work out for sure."

Bye-bye new car. Adios Caribbean island. I was going to have to give up something to them. These two were relentless when it came to prodding for details—especially Connie. She'd find out somehow anyway. Maybe she could get a raise with all of this money Vinnie was expecting to make.

"It's really not a big deal. Johnny needed a job, and Harry and Lucille pushed Vinnie into hiring him. It wasn't Vinnie's idea, but for now we're all stuck with him, because Harry was gonna pull his backing if he didn't hire Johnny. I agreed to train him if we could have him at our disposal when we needed some muscle picking up a skip."

Connie narrowed her eyes. "That doesn't sound like such a great deal. You would still have to split the recovery money three ways."

"But, we would be able to pick up higher dollar skips. Plus, I negotiated a percentage fee. Lula, you and I will split an additional seven percent of whatever Johnny's take is when we work with him. And this way, we all get to keep our jobs. It's a win-win." I gave Lula and Connie a big smile.

I hoped they would both see me as a smart business woman and leave it at that. I still had the percentage of Johnny's solo skips coming to me. That was all mine, and I was definitely going to earn every penny of it. Probably, I would need to set some aside for therapy sessions after working that closely with Johnny.

Lula cocked an eyebrow. "So, why didn't you just tell me that? Why do you need to be all secretive and shit? Unless, you wasn't planning on splittin' the take with me."

"I wouldn't do that. Like I said, I was feeling him out before I said anything." My voice sounded whiny to my own ears.

"Sounds like Johnny wants to feel you up," Connie snickered.

I shook my head. "That's not funny. Thanks for bringing it up again. I think I need another beer."

"The one in your hand was last call. I need to get back to the office and see what kind of damage Johnny has done." Connie scrunched up her face in a peculiar grimace.

"What's that look for?" I asked.

"I just had a terrible vision of returning to the office and finding him having a threesome with Joyce and Vinnie." We all groaned and gagged at the image of that.

"Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't trust him alone with you. You shoulda brought me with you today. You know, like a chaperone. Did he try anything with those nasty thumbs?" Lula asked.

"No, and there is _no_ way the three of you would fit in my car. Where would we put the skip? Besides, I flat out told him I wasn't interested. He even met Joe. I introduced them at the station. This is strictly a working relationship, and we all need to work together amicably. We both need this extra money, so cut me some slack. Okay?"

"Fine. But if I find out he's messin' with you, I'll bust a cap in his ass and set him straight."

"I really don't think it will come to that." _I'd shoot him myself if it did._

"Well, if you need me to back you up, we'll take my Firebird. I really don't want that sicko-suave in my baby, but I'll just put a Ziploc on the headrest. Crisco's a bitch to get out of the upholstery. Believe me, girl, I know."

There could've been any number of reasons for Lula to have Crisco in her car. Lula being Lula, my first thought was that she used it for something sexual. I'd just finished eating lunch though. Probably not a good time to ask.

I looked around the restaurant. Lunch rush was over and there was only one other booth occupied. The waitress was staring at us from her side of the bar. Obviously her shift was over, and she was hanging around waiting for our tip. I waved her over and told her we were finished. She dropped the check on the table and cleared the dessert plates.

"My treat," Connie said, grabbing for it. "You've had a rough day, sugar-buns."

When the fresh air hit me, I realized I was a little more than just buzzed. I wasn't sick, but I probably shouldn't have had that last beer. I climbed into the backseat of Connie's Camry and let out a burp that tasted like chocolate cake.

"Did Vinnie give you any of Johnny's history when you were in the office?" Connie asked, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

"Just that he was orphaned, and Harry and his wife pretty much raised him after that. Why? What do you know?" I asked anxiously.

The fact that Connie was bringing up Johnny's past meant she had some prime dirt on him. She was always in the know, serving as my reference library for the community gossip, while at the same time managing to keep her own personal life somewhat of a mystery. She was a relentless bloodhound when it came to investigating the private lives of others. When Connie didn't know something, she had an arsenal of resources in her pocket to sleuth out the facts. Her enigmatical lifestyle made me wonder if she made it her job to know everyone's business just in case she needed to extort someone in the future. On the other hand, maybe she was just nosy.

"Well, Vinnie didn't really tell me anything when he brought Johnny in today. He wasn't very forthcoming with information after the two of you left either. So, I called my great aunt Sylvia to see if she knew anything."

"She's still alive? She's got to be like a hundred," I marveled.

"Close, she's ninety-seven and living in the nursing home. Her short term memory is gone, but she has the recall of an elephant when it comes to mafia history. She could tell you stories like they just happened last week. It's funny how the dementia hit her."

"That's too bad," I said sympathetically. "Did she have any dirt on Johnny?"

"She's got dirt on everybody. She said his mother died when he was little. Cancer or something. His father, John Sr., was a real piece of work. He'd give Joe's dad a run for his money." I gave Connie an understanding nod when she glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

Morelli's father had been an abusive alcoholic. While Joe was the second youngest of five siblings, it wouldn't surprise anyone to find out he had a half-brother or half-sister or two floating around town. Everyone knew Joe's dad had cheated, even his mom.

Angie Morelli had chosen to ignore Rocco's infidelity not only because she'd feared her husband, but also because of what the neighbors might have thought. Either way, Mrs. Morelli was a good Catholic and had figured one day God would hear her silent prayers for salvation during Sunday mass and straighten all of her problems out. And one day, He did.

Joe once told me his father's final _fuck you_ to the world had been when he'd chosen to die one February during a harsh cold snap. The frigid temperature and bitter wind had made your eyes sting and water at the burial site. Joe said the bastard had probably wanted to see tears in his family's eyes, so he could pretend they were actually mourning his death.

Joe didn't reminisce about his childhood much, because it reminded him of the parts he struggled to forget. His face had lit up when he described the beautiful sunny day after they put Rocco in the ground. The clenched muscles in his jaw had relaxed and the tension had left his eyes. I was sure the entire Morelli clan had experienced a solaced feeling of emancipation without the patron figurehead to torment them.

The harshness of Joe's dad had frightened not only the Morelli kids, but also the neighborhood kids, including me. I'd assumed that was why Joe chose to travel the distance to my block for his recreational debauchery. I couldn't imagine a worse human being than Rocco Morelli, as Connie had described Johnny's dad. Maybe there wasn't a nearby neighborhood where Johnny could venture to play. Perhaps that was an explanation for his lack of social skills.

Lula interrupted my fleeting comparative thoughts. "Was John Sr. connected too?"

"Yeah. From what Sylvia told me, that wasn't always the case. You probably don't know this, but Harry wasn't born into the family," Connie said.

"I guess I never really thought about it. Is that what Sylvia said?" I asked.

"No. That part I already knew. I know a lot about Harry. I just asked about Johnny," Connie said.

"What do you know about Harry?" I inquired.

"I know he got started doing some small pick-ups for the low level guys when he was in his teens. He had a knack for it and the attitude. The boss took an interest in him and gave him more responsibility. Next thing you know, he's making money hand over fist."

"So, his brother John Sr. followed suit," I deduced.

"That's what I figured, too. But Sylvia said it wasn't that simple. She indicated Harry kept nagging John Sr. to join up but was always refused. John Sr. tried to make ends meet truck driving, but gas prices back then were high, and the wages were pretty shitty. Lots of times, companies didn't even pay benefits."

Connie stopped at the red light and studied the car filled with gang bangers on her right. The passenger in front had his window rolled down, and a mixture of slang and vulgarities streamed out of the car.

"Didn't they even have gas rations back then?" I added.

"Huh? Yeah, I guess." She rolled up her window, as if they might eavesdrop on our conversation. I don't think they'd really even noticed us. I assumed the guy in the backseat was rolling a joint the way he busied his hands in his lap. The light turned green, and we started moving again.

Lula clucked her tongue. "Girl, get to the story already. This shit's boring. I thought you was gonna tell us how that big dummy's dad kept him chained in the basement or something and now he's part animal. I don't care about no history about America's gas. I feel like I'm listenin' to a damn book report."

"I'm getting to the good stuff, but I gotta tell you some back story first." Connie tapped her chin. "Now, where was I?"

"Johnny's dad was a broke-ass truck driver who was too stupid to make some real money workin' for Harry. Then you guys turned into the History Channel," Lula retorted.

"Oh, yeah, now I remember. Harry saw how much his brother was struggling and really wanted to help him out. By that time, Harry had really made a name for himself and had his own crew. He kept telling John Sr. to come work for him. Harry told him he could still drive truck, because they needed someone they could trust to move around some merchandise."

"What kind of merchandise?" I queried.

"I don't know, just― stuff." Connie shot me another look in the rearview mirror that meant she knew, but if she told me, she'd have to kill me.

"Anyway, Harry told him he wouldn't have to really get his hands dirty if he was just doing some transporting. But John Sr. didn't want anything to do with mob business. That is, until his wife got sick. There wasn't any insurance and the medical bills started piling up. Harry promised to cover all his debts and assured his brother he would want for nothing if he came to work for him. John Sr. was flat broke and had no choice but to take him up on the offer. Sylvia said his wife later died that same year."

"How old was he when his momma died?" Lula asked.

Connie shrugged. "Toddler I guess. I didn't ask."

"That's really sad he lost his mother so young. I wonder if he remembers her," I contemplated.

Connie was taking the long way back to the office, so she could finish the tale. I noticed we had passed the same buildings a couple times and figured there was more to the story since we were nowhere near the bonds office.

"I take it John Sr. continued to work for Harry after his wife died?"

"Yeah. Once you're in the mob, there's only one way out," Connie pointed out.

"Since Johnny went to live with Harry, I guess John Sr. took that way out. Did Sylvia know what happened to him?"

"Yeah, I wanna know did they find his body, or did he get buried in some parking lot like that Jimmy Hoffman?" Lula remarked, shivering. "That's gotta be about the time they put up the mall. I don't like the idea that next time I go shopping for shoes, some zombie arm could reach up outta the asphalt and grab my ankle. I hate zombies."

"Jesus, Lula. Where do you come up with this crap?" Connie shook her head. "First of all, it's Hoffa, not Hoffman. Secondly, if a zombie arm is going to grab your ankle, it won't be John Sr.'s. Aunt Sylvia told me what happened to him."

I was afraid of the traumatizing answer Connie would provide, but I had to ask. "So what'd she say happened to him?"

"I'll give you the cliff notes version, otherwise I'll run out of gas. She said he used to take Johnny with him to the pool hall and let him play pinball, while he got tanked and picked up women. One night, John Sr. hooked up with a knockout blond bimbo and sent Johnny on his way to walk home. Turns out the woman was the wife of a guy who worked for a rival mafia family. The husband came home and found the two of them humping on the living room floor. The guy grabbed the poker from the fireplace and bashed John Sr.'s head in. They dumped him in an alley and left him for dead—_but _he wasn't dead. He was in a coma for weeks before he finally died. Never woke up. Johnny stayed by his side the whole time. He even held his father's hand as he took his last breath. That's when he went to live with his uncle, Harry the Hammer."

"How old was he when that happened?" Lula asked.

"Sylvia said he had to repeat a grade in middle school, so I guess whatever age you are then," Connie said.

"Wow." That summed up pretty much everything I was thinking at that point. How awful for him to have to deal with losing both his parents at such a young age. He was probably forced into a life of crime like his father. _No wonder he was so screwed up as an adult._

"Hunh, no wonder that dude is so messed up. Probably he needs to see one of them head shrinkers. A guy who acts like that ain't right in the head. You know what he needs is a good old fashioned phlebotomy," Lula noted and straightened her sunglasses in the sun visor mirror.

"I think you mean lobotomy," Connie corrected.

"What'd I say?" Lula flipped the visor back up and turned to Connie.

"Phlebotomy."

"What's that mean?"

"That has to do with drawing blood."

"Well, I say the bloodier the better. Lord knows that fool deserves it," she tossed back. "Are you gonna stop at the mall one of these times? You done passed it three times now, and I'll bet there's a sale going on in one of them stores."

"I thought you were afraid of a zombie grabbing your ankle," I reminded her.

"Hunh, I ain't walking across no parking lot." Lula turned to Connie. "You could just drop me off at the door."

"We're not going to the mall," Connie said flatly. "I was just stalling, so I could tell you about Johnny."

We'd been driving in circles for quite a while. I felt like I was trapped in a mobile fishbowl watching the same scenery pass me by. Lula and Connie's previous exchange had left me with an image of a bloodied Johnny having brain surgery on an operating table. My stomach began to churn, and I rolled down the window.

"Let me know if you gotta hurl, and I'll pull over," Connie offered.

"Yeah, you look kinda green," Lula agreed. "Here." She handed me a plastic grocery bag she'd pulled from her purse.

"Just take me home, Connie. I'm going to take a nap. Joe can take me to pick up my car later." I yawned and rubbed my hands over my face.

"You don't worry 'bout nothing, girl. Me and Connie will set the record straight with that prick when we get back to the office. Officer Hottie's gonna have his ass in a sling when he finds out about this," Lula promised.

"Oh God, that's the last thing I need. Please, both of you, promise me you won't say anything to Joe."

I made them both pinky swear to keep our lunch conversation a secret. The car rolled to a stop in front of my building, and I headed to the door after saying my goodbyes and reminding them to keep their lips zipped. I saw the dumpster in my peripheral and was thankful the wind was blowing in the opposite direction.

I assumed Mrs. Bestler, one of the senior citizen tenants, was on her lunch break from playing operator as I exited the elevator. After several missed attempts, I finally keyed open the lock and kicked off my shoes. I was hot and continued to strip off my clothing, while I shuffled to the bedroom. Overwhelmed and exhausted, I flopped down on the bed.

I didn't want to think about Johnny's horrible childhood. What Connie said had made me see him in a different light. Joe's father was similar to Johnny's. They were both womanizers and drunks. It made me sad and nauseous. I had to change my focus.

I thought about my parents who had cared about me and provided a safe, stable and loving environment to grow up. Closing my eyes, I thought about Joe wanting to play astronaut this morning and smiled. After setting the stage for a pleasant dream, I was instantly asleep.

"You might want to lock your door if you're going to sleep naked," a gravelly voice boomed.

Startled awake, I instinctively grabbed my bedspread and covered myself. Joe stood at the foot of my bed with his hands on his hips. I had to pee, badly. Keeping the blanket wrapped around me, I dashed into the bathroom. It took me a few seconds to pull the whole blanket in, before I could close the door.

"I've seen it all before, Cupcake," Joe shouted through the door.

"Go away, Joe. I have to pee. You're giving my bladder stage-fright." I clenched and listened for his footsteps.

"Don't worry. I'm going into the living room. I won't be held responsible for giving you a urinary tract infection," he snorted sarcastically.

I heard him walk away and let loose. _Aaah, sweet relief._ I washed my hands and brushed my teeth. I must not have moved at all in my sleep, because my hair was pretty decent, and the make-up was still where it should be. Since I was already naked, and Joe was there, I might as well try and make up for that morning. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I left it slightly open in the front, making sure the tops of my breasts were exposed for maximum reaction.

I opened the door and was surprised to find Joe sitting on the side of my bed. _Good. He was already in position._

The hum of the bathroom fan reminded me to turn around and shut off the bathroom light. In doing so, my foot got caught up in the dragging comforter, which then caused me to trip and fall on my hands and knees.

"There's my graceful girl," Joe observed with a huge smile.

"Shut up. I was trying to be sexy."

"You are sexy, Cupcake."

"I thought you were in the living room?"

"I was. I turned around and came back here."

Figuring I might still recover from the fall, I got up and re-wrapped the blanket like a sexy shroud the best I could with him watching me.

"I'm glad I did," he snickered. "I wouldn't have witnessed another one of your amazing talents."

"Huh?"

"Stunt comedian. You're sexy and funny. Really, Steph, I think you're ready to quit your day job."

"What are you talking about?"

Joe began to clap rhythmically. "Ladies and gentleman, please give it up for the lovely and talented, Ms. Stephanie Plum. She'll be okay, folks. Don't try any of these stunts at home. She's a trained professional. I'm sure you've enjoyed the show, so tell your friends Stephanie will be appearing on Thursday and Saturday nights. Drive safely and remember to tip your server. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." Joe grinned, rubbing his palms back and forth on his jeans.

I tilted my head and glared at him. "Was that supposed to be funny?"

"Yeah," he chuckled softly. Joe's enigmatic smile was mixed with a look of anticipation. Almost like he had poked a sleeping bear and was waiting to see if it would wake up and maul him.

I let my expression soften to a jovial grin. "Don't quit your day job. Leave the comedy to the professionals."

"Oh yeah? Think you can you do that trick again?"

"Nope. I'm going to show you something I'm even better at," I said in a sultry voice.

I very carefully sauntered over to the bed. The chocolate of his narrowing eyes turned dark and his lips parted slightly. His gaze lowered to my breasts. When his eyes swept back up to meet mine, they were filled with lusty desire. It turned me on, and I felt the sex kitten wanting to come out and play. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I gave him a shove and he fell back onto his elbows. I climbed onto the bed, one knee at a time and straddled his waist. My eyes fluttering closed, I leaned forward to place my lips on his.

The kiss was just heating up when he pulled back. "I hate to say this, Cupcake, but it's 5:30. Don't we have to be at your parent's by six?"

"Damn, I forgot," I said disappointedly and started to ease off his lap.

He grabbed my hip to stop my movement. "I can forget too. Dinner? What dinner? See, already forgotten."

"Nope. We have to go. I'll make it up to you later," I said giving him a light kiss. "I promise."

"You and your promises. I'm holding you to that." He smiled and kissed me back.

I began rushing through my drawers and closet looking for clothes. Both were mostly empty. _Boy, I really need to do laundry_. Luckily, I found a pair of string bikinis nestled underneath a pair of granny panties, which I'd only been saving for times of desperation. I would have resorted to dressing in the bathroom to keep those bloomers under wrap, because Joe would _never_ have let me live it down if he'd seen those.

"Do these smell clean?" I asked, tossing a pair of jeans I found on the floor at Joe.

He sniffed and tossed them back at me. "They smell like you."

"Clarify that. Do they smell like clean me or dirty me?"

"The way you smell makes me have dirty thoughts. If you don't have your pants on in thirty seconds, we will definitely be late to dinner," came his husky reply.

I quickly shimmied into the jeans before he made me forget dinner altogether. Joe could seduce me into forgetting my own birthday party if he really wanted to.

And I live for birthday cake.

He raised an eyebrow. "So you gonna tell me about your new partner? Is there anything I should be concerned about?"

"Only if I murder him," I retorted, pulling on a v-neck t-shirt. "He's a pig."

"What do you mean?"

"His life revolves around sex."

"I like him already. As long as he keeps his hands off you."

"I'll break the rest of his fingers if he touches me."

I wasn't about to open a can of worms by telling Joe about Johnny offering to—ick. I couldn't bring myself to even think about it. I would have to work closely with Johnny making sure he was prepared for the task of bounty hunting. The last thing I needed was the Italian Stallion scrutinizing our every minute together because he was insecure.

"How'd he break his finger? I didn't notice anything when I shook his hand earlier."

"Both his thumbs, not his finger. It was a long time ago. I don't know how, and I'm not going to ask him about it," I answered bluntly.

Joe dropped it with the curtness of my response. I tried to come up with a topic changer, but my focus was pretty much dedicated to finding a clean pair of socks. If he kept asking questions, he'd become suspicious of Johnny's past and want to run his name.

"What's Johnny's last name? I'd feel a little better about the guy working with you if I knew he was clean," Joe said, leaning against the doorjamb.

"He didn't tell me. They call him Johnny Thumbs." I wasn't exactly lying with my reply, just avoiding the truth. I also avoided mentioning the fact he was Harry's nephew. Having an ex-mob partner probably wouldn't sit well with Joe.

"Sounds like a mob name. You think they call him that on account of his broken thumbs?"

I mentally cringed, not liking the direction he was headed. "Yes, detective, you deserve a promotion with investigative skills like that. Now help me identify some clean socks, would ya?"

"It's not that cold out. Just don't wear any socks." Joe maintained his position by the door. "So, do you think he's going to be any good?"

"If the FTA is a desperate female!" I snorted. "Yeah, he can just use his twisted idea of what a woman wants to hear and charm her into his car like the pied piper."

"Wow. He sounds like quite the ladies man. Now I really want to see this Johnny guy in action. Maybe I can pick up a few tips from him."

"You'll be singing soprano if you try any of his lines on me. Besides, you don't need any pointers. He should be taking lessons from you. You got _me_, didn't you?"

"Yep." Joe strutted over and turned me around in his arms. "And I'm never letting you go," he said with a kiss.

There was a knock at the door.

"Expecting someone?"

"No," I answered, wondering whom it could be.

Joe left to check on the interruption, while I put on my shoes. My eyes bugged out when I walked into the living room. I almost groaned out loud upon seeing the drop-by guest.

"Look who's here, Cupcake. Your partner." Joe smiled widely.

"How did you know where I live?"

"It's in your records," Johnny replied with a shrug.

"You _read_ my personal file?"

I was disconcerted, although there probably wasn't anything in there that wasn't already public knowledge. Whatever didn't spread through the Burg gossip chain about my life usually ended up on the front page of the _Trenton Times_.

"Yeah. What else did I have to do when you ditched me at the office? When's the last time you updated your information? I'da never figured you only weighed 112 pounds on account of all them doughnuts you eat." Johnny looked to Joe. "You must've picked her up before. What do you say she weighs?"

Joe smirked and rubbed his chin. "Well―"

I stopped him before he could put his foot in his mouth. "Answer that, and you're a dead man, Morelli."

I glared at Joe, until he changed the subject. "So, Johnny, what brings you by tonight?"

"I wanted to talk to my partner about something that happened earlier," he replied. I shook my head slightly with wide eyes, signaling now was not the time. I didn't think there would _ever_ be a time when I wanted to talk about what happened between us earlier.

Joe's forehead creased, as he turned his attention to me. "What happened earlier?"

"Oh, umm…" I really hated being put on the spot like that. "He's probably wondering why I didn't come back to the office after lunch. I had a beer and had Connie drive me home. Which reminds me, can we swing by the office later, so I can pick up my car?"

"Your car's outside," Johnny stated.

"How is my car outside? I left it at the office."

"I drove it here. I think you broke the lock when you slammed the door. It shuts, but it just don't lock no more."

I reached into my purse and pulled out my keys. "How did you get here without these?"

Johnny looked from me to Joe, then back to me. "Uhh…."

"Never mind. There just better not be a bunch of wires hanging down when I get in my car," I huffed.

"Nope. It's all put back nice and pretty like," Johnny beamed.

"We'd love to stay and chat, but Steph and I were just on our way out," Joe said.

"Guess I'll be goin', too. Say, I'm pretty hungry. All I ate today was some orange crackers. Did yous guys eat yet?" Johnny asked.

"We were just on our way out to eat. Sorry," I said, almost snapping my fingers to emphasize my embellished, darn-it-all tone, but that would've been laying it on a bit thick.

"I'll just tag along."

Evidently, I hadn't been blunt enough about my heave-ho.

"Where do you want to eat?" Johnny continued. "Is there a Knockers around here?"

"I don't think so. What's Knockers?" My curiosity got the better of me. Joe's snicker told me I shouldn't have asked.

"It's like Hooter's, 'cept the chicks are kinda butterfaces. Their food ain't so expensive, and you got better luck taking your waitress home," Johnny so quaintly informed me.

"You know what butterface means, Steph?" Joe was purposely fueling the fire.

I closed my eyes before they could roll. I needed to ditch Johnny and do so quickly.

"We are having dinner at my parents. We really—"

"—think you should come with us. Steph's mom always makes extra," Joe rattled off quickly. He took a step back, knowing an elbow to the gut was seconds away.

"Okay, sure. I ain't had a home-cooked meal in a long time. Any babes gonna be there?"

"None that aren't already taken," Joe responded, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"If you want to go with us, we need to leave now. Dinner is at six sharp and we _can't_ be late. My mother doesn't need another reason to complain to me." I would have to thank Joe later for taking up the slack in my Burg manners.

Johnny yelled shotgun, and I told him either to get in the back or go home. He pouted about that for a few minutes after getting into the back of Joe's SUV. I think he kicked my seat too. _Was he eight years old or what?_ I could only imagine what was about to transpire when Johnny met my family.

"I thought you had a date with Shelly tonight?"

"After you left me at the office, I got bored. So I decided to make it an early date with the cherry-pop and left when Connie got back. I went over to her house to work my magic. She was all excited to see me. She lit a bunch of candles. Then she wanted to read her poetry to me, 'cause she thinks I'm all into poetry or somethin'. Man, I shoulda never told her that poem. Her's was all bullshit, sappy crap. You know what? It didn't even rhyme. After about ten minutes, I'm ready to blow my brains out. I couldn't take it no more. But, being the gentleman I am, I told her it made me hot, and we needed to get down to business before I blew in my pants. I lied though. I was hoping she would quit yappin', 'cause I couldn't even get my dick hard."

Joe chuckled, and while glaring, I gritted out, "How romantic."

"I know, right? So, instead of jumping on me, she said she's got a play she wrote, and I'd have to hear that before we did anything. So, I suggest she read it to me in the bedroom. I figured once we was in there, I could shut her up by stickin' somethin' in her mouth—if you know what I mean? Heh, heh. "He paused, until I acknowledged I knew what he meant.

"Uhh-huhh."

Joe laughed again, and I punched his arm.

"Anyways, she doesn't want to go to the bedroom yet. She says she wants to read by candlelight, for the mood and all. Then she tells me we gotta bring all the candles into the bedroom before we can do the deed. I ain't got time for all that romance bullshit. What is it with broads and the candles? Most chicks I bang, I gotta have the lights off. Otherwise, I just do 'em from behind, so I ain't gotta look at 'em."

Joe sucked his lips in, so he could bite on them and laugh without making a sound. Meanwhile, I put my fingers to the bridge of my nose.

"I'll bet that's why she wanted to go to the store—to pick up more candles," I said.

"Well, she must have bought the entire supply. I felt like I was at one of them ceremonies where you talk to the dead."

"A séance," I amended.

"Whatever." He waved off my correction. "I just was hoping she had a fire extinguisher. So when she went to look for her goddamn play, I got the hell outta there. She's fucking nuts. Usually, I'm pretty good with a cup of crazy, but this chick's doomed for a life with cats."

I turned around to look at Johnny in disbelief. "You just left?"

"Yeah. She'll figure it out. If I ever run into her, I'll just tell her you called needing my assistance or some bullshit like that."

At this point, I was sure that Joe no longer felt Johnny was a threat. I think he was actually getting a kick out of the guy's honesty.

I wasn't.

His language was vulgar and stories were crass. I needed to set down some ground rules for etiquette at my parents.

"My family goes to church every Sunday," I warned. "Try and maintain some decorum with your vocabulary at the dinner table." I thought about Grandma Mazur's presence, and her intrigue with the erotic world. "And NO sex talk."

"Jeez, give me a little credit," he shot back, sounding hurt. "I'll absolutely be on my best behavior. Wouldn't want your folks to think I'm some kind of creep or somethin'."


End file.
